


The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy

by AuroraWest



Series: it's not going to matter if we fall down twice [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki (Marvel), Bisexual Loki (Marvel), Brother Feels, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical levels of poor decision making, Complicated Relationships, Gen, IN SPACE!, Language, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Mild Sexual Content, POV Loki (Marvel), Road Trips, Space Battles, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Unreliable Narrator, and non-space battles, minor appearances from the Guardians of the Galaxy, minor appearances from the Thor cast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 112,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest
Summary: Loki and Thor are finally together again and everything'sgreat. Everything's perfect. It's all exactly as Loki imagined. He wouldn't change a thing.That's...a lie. Nothing is right. Loki knew things wouldn't be simple, but they're so much less simple than he expected. Thor has forgotten who he is. Loki isn't sure that he ever knew whohewas to begin with. They're quite the pair. They have a spaceship and each other, but not much else—certainly nothing resembling purpose or direction.So Loki decides to change that. What could give the Princes of Asgard purpose?Well—what if they reopened the Bifrost?
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: it's not going to matter if we fall down twice [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680754
Comments: 276
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, [mareebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareebird/pseuds/mareebird)!

There is only the fight to recover what has been lost  
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions  
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.  
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

_T.S. Eliot_ , _“East Coker,” Four Quartets_

A blaring alarm woke Loki and he sat bolt upright, slamming his face against the bulkhead. “ _Ow_ , fu—” he started to swear before a second, and then third, alarm started up.

He hit the bulkhead with his fist and swung out of his bed, such as it was. A ship of this size didn’t have _beds._ It was generous to even call it a berth—more like a shelf with a couple old chair pads on it. Rubbing his forehead, he crossed the ship’s bridge in a few strides and slid onto one of the chairs in front of the ship’s controls. He eyed the lights flashing across the console. Then, with a sniff, he cut the alarms. They stopped mid-wail and Loki leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

And he had to catch himself, since he’d forgotten—again—that it was loose in the floor and was one of the many, _many_ things on this ship that needed to be repaired. Furrowing his brow and staring at the sensors with narrowed eyes, he called, “Thor, were you aware half the alarms on this so-called ship were going off?”

There were several hollow bangs and then his brother’s head appeared through an access panel in the floor. Loki raised an eyebrow and tapped a finger under his own left eye. “Oh,” Thor said, and adjusted his eyepatch, which had been askew and exposing the newly re-emptied socket there. The eye that he’d gotten from the raccoon had never suited him, anyway. Loki had commented, after it had been damaged in battle, that the enemy had shown enormous good sense in going for the fake eye. Thor hadn’t appreciated it. “There’s still something wrong with the navigation system,” Thor said. “I was trying to fix it. Did I? The alarms shut off.”

“I turned them off,” Loki replied. “You don’t _really_ need me to tell you whether you repaired anything, do you?”

Thor hoisted himself up and climbed to his feet. Brushing his clothes off, he said, “You could’ve pretended, at least.”

“Mm, not in my nature.”

With a scoff, Thor said, “Not in your nature? Brother, you’re the most practiced liar I’ve ever met.”

“Yes,” Loki said, flicking his fingers. “But I’m not going to lie to make you feel better about your lack of engineering ability. Anyway, never mind, take a look at this.” He leaned forward and tapped on the nav screen, pulling up the reason for the screaming proximity sensor.

Thor put a hand on the back of the chair, tipping Loki back, and peered at it. “Something’s coming out of a jump.”

“Something’s coming out of a jump,” Loki agreed, looking up at Thor.

“And it’s big.”

“Do you think they’re following us?”

Thor looked down and met Loki’s eyes. “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should be here when it arrives, just in case. We should jump.”

Shaking his head, Loki said, “We can’t. Navigation’s down. The computer can’t make the calculations.”

Thor drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. Then, he said, “So we do it manually.”

“ _What?_ ” Loki asked.

Thor was looking at him as though he’d just come up with a way to circumvent Von Neumann entropy instead of a way to get both of them killed. “We do the calculations ourselves. It’s possible, right?”

Loki’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head. “In a loose sense.”

Glancing at the sensor screen, Thor said, “We don’t have much of a choice.”

“I disagree,” Loki said. “And I get the sense that when you say ‘we’ can do the calculations, what you really mean is _I_ can do the calculations.” When Thor looked at him and gave him that big, stupid smile that he so excelled at, Loki scoffed and said, “I find your faith in me flattering, but in this case it’s also rather misplaced.”

The smile dropped off Thor’s face and he said, “We still don’t have any guns. Our shields are gone and the hull plating’s shot to hel. We aren’t running anywhere fast on our impulse drive. We can’t even send out a distress signal because the comm’s fried too.”

As though distress signals did much of anything. Loki pressed his mouth into a thin line and said, “Thor, I’m more likely to tear this ship, and _us_ , to pieces.” He paused, then added unconvincingly, “We don’t _know_ it’s them. Whoever this is, they might not be hostile.”

There was a dark look in Thor’s eye. “Look, considering our history with much bigger ships coming across us in deep space, I’m not really inclined to hang around to see if they’re friendly.”

“You have a point,” Loki muttered. He stared at the screen, his fingers fidgeting. The proximity alarm start blaring again as the other ship’s jump exit point began coalescing and Loki absently reached up to switch it off. This was complete madness.

With a hard sigh, he said, “Alright, fine, get me something to write with.”

Thor grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, leaving to get a pencil and the back of a fast food wrapper left over from the day they’d left Earth. Disgusting. How Thor could eat that garbage, Loki would never understand. “Thank you,” he said, snatching the pencil from Thor and spreading the crinkling wrapper flat. He hesitated, then began scribbling formulas.

Was he breathing? He should breathe. The alarm started going off again but this time he didn’t bother to stop it. They had maybe twenty seconds before the exit point opened up and—shit, and _that_ wasn’t right. Biting his lip, Loki scribbled out the last line he’d written. _That_ would have either taken them straight into the center of the nearest sun or turned their ship inside out, and Loki wasn’t sure which. Thor—was it to his credit? Maybe not, considering he was the one who’d decided this was a good idea in the first place—didn’t say anything.

Through the front viewscreen, a white light appeared. Space seemed to stretch, starlight elongating, shifting to blue at the edges. “Loki…” Thor said urgently.

The pencil tip snapped off on the last variable but Loki said, “ _There_ ,” and leaned forward so he could reach the navigation system. His fingers darted across the panel. “Are they there?” he asked, trying for a casual tone.

“Yes,” Thor said.

Slightly less casual: “Are they arming their weapons?”

“Hard to tell.” You had to give it to Thor, he was good at sounding cheerful even in fairly dire circumstances. “Don’t think about it,” he added.

With a snort, Loki repeated, “Don’t think about it. Right.” A photon blast shot past the window. That answered his question.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Thor cross his arms over his chest, one finger tapping at his arm. Normally there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing his brother nervous about something, but as he stood to have his own atoms scattered to the solar winds, this wasn’t one of them.

Sucking in a breath, he punched a final key, locking in the nav calc, and prepped the system by flicking several switches. “You may want to sit down,” Loki said, a fatalistic cheerfulness in his tone. “At best, this is going to be an extremely bumpy ride.” Thor hastily did so, but Loki still paused, his fingers resting on the jump initiation. This might be the last thing he ever saw; an uninspiring bit of space, his scribbled math, and his still somewhat overweight brother who hadn’t managed to fix his eyepatch properly.

Oh well.

He sat back, bracing himself against the back of his chair, and hit the button.

The ship lurched, flinging them forward into the control panel. The edge of it caught Loki in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could push himself back into his seat, the ship entered the jump point. He stayed where he was, crouching against the control panel, one arm stretched out over the controls to steady himself while the ship screamed around them. Blackness crept in around the edges of his vision but he forced it back with every ounce of willpower he had and clung to consciousness.

The scream of the jump engines reached such a high pitch that he scrunched his eyes shut and ducked his head, feeling like it was shredding his eardrums. At least if he focused on that he could try to ignore the deeper, ominous, off-cycle thrumming beneath it. He could feel _that_ in his bones.

And then, with another lurch, they reappeared into normal space.

Loki stayed where he was, breathing hard and feeling queasy. They seemed to still be alive—and _not_ in the center of a sun. His stomach felt like it had been turned inside out, though. Better that than the entire ship, he supposed.

Slowly, he stood and looked out the windows. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Thor rising and looking faintly green himself. They were in empty space, the stars glowing white and red and yellow and blue in the vastness, and they were alone. Worth a little spacesickness, if he said so himself.

As Loki closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, Thor asked, “Where did you learn all of that, anyway?”

This was one of those moments where he debated whether or not to lie. The Loki of old would have. But he was a Loki who’d turned over a new leaf: plucked from _The Statesman,_ saved from certain death, and one of the unspoken conditions of that, at least in his own mind, had always been _do better. You could be more._ So he chose the truth this time. Turning his head and opening his eyes, Loki said, “I had quite a bit of time on my hands that year I was in the dungeons.”

Thor looked guilty. Good. “Ah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “At least you put all that time to good use.”

Loki rolled his eyes, wanting very much to snap that he would much rather _not_ have been learning advanced calculus in a ten-by-ten dungeon cell and instead living his life. But if he did, Thor would only bluster and get defensive and it would turn into a Thing _._ “I had plenty of _time_ , but not a lot of opportunity for practical application.”

His guilt falling away, Thor grinned and said, “I trust you, brother.”

“That makes a change,” Loki said, trying to ignore the warmth that spread out from his sternum at these words.

Leaning a hand on the ship’s controls, Thor’s face grew pensive as he stared out into space. He squinted, his gaze traveling from one point in the blackness to another. Loki knew exactly what he was doing, because he’d done it too, the minute they’d come out of their jump. That constellation, the brightest in their sky, had glowed over their heads for their whole lives on Asgard. They’d been told as children over and over how those who died glorious deaths went to those stars. Their mother’s light had joined them, not that Loki had seen it happen.

“Where have you brought us?” Thor asked, his tone low and suddenly dangerous.

Loki glanced at him, feeling defensive already. Trying to keep his tone light, he replied, “The list of places that I’ve got the galactic coordinates memorized for isn’t all that long.”

Thor rounded on him, holding a finger up. “We never agreed—” he began, his voice choking off at the end, so that Loki was left feeling like he’d interrupted somehow, even though he stood there wordlessly for several seconds.

“We talked about it,” Loki finally said, when it became clear that Thor wasn’t going on.

“Talking isn’t agreeing.” Thor’s fists clenched at his sides. “You shouldn’t have brought us here.”

With a scoff of disbelief, Loki said, “I didn’t exactly have time to put together an itinerary for you to _approve_ , brother. If I think back to, oh, when was it, _ten minutes ago_ , you were the one insisting I bring us somewhere.” His shoulders tensed. “I did. I’m terribly sorry if you don’t care for the place I chose. Oh wait.” Raising a sarcastic eyebrow, he said, “That’s right. I’m not.”

Thor glared at him. “You didn’t have to choose _this_ place.”

“But I _did_ choose it,” Loki said. “And we’re here. So are we going to do anything about it?”

There was a long, painful silence. Thor’s shoulders stiffened and his fists clenched. Loki wondered if his brother might actually hit him. The way his jaw was working, it seemed more likely by the second.

But then, Thor said in a tight voice. “No. Let’s get the nav system fixed. I want to get out of here.”

He stomped out of sight, around the corner to the back of the ship, where the airlock was. With effort, Loki resisted the urge to suggest he throw himself out of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the viewscreen at the stars that he’d always known—at least, until he’d let go of Gungnir on the Rainbow Bridge that day, and by extension, everything.

Asgard.

Or rather, the cold, empty space where Asgard had been. Scattered amongst the stars were dark hunks of black rock. The remains of their planet. The rubble of home. There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

Loki breathed in slowly through his nose. Now, to convince Thor that coming here had been the right thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Things had started out sensibly enough.

Well, things had started out with Thor shouting at Loki, which was about par for the course. 

Wait. Perhaps that’s not far enough back.

Fine—things had started, really, when Loki had made up his mind to sacrifice himself for Thor on _The Statesman_ , only to be handed the Tesseract by himself—a different version of himself from another timeline—stabbed by said version of himself, and sent to an alternate dimension. He’d spent three months there, then erased its existence by stopping the version of himself in 2012 from stealing the Tesseract from the Avengers in the first place. Then he’d ended up in 2023, in New York City on a hot July day, at the Sanctum, an unwilling house guest of Stephen Strange. He’d spent nine months at the Sanctum, over the course of which he’d befriended Jane Foster, who had been dying of cancer. He wouldn’t say he’d befriended Strange.

_Strange_. Insufferable man. You know this part, right? Good. Moving on…

There had been a battle, because of course there had been a battle. The Battle of New Asgard, they had taken to calling it, though Loki hadn’t found that out until later.

It had been one of those big set piece clashes that seemed to occur disproportionately on Earth. An evil being from another dimension, taking down universe after universe. Ultimus. A Kree Eternal. Madder than Thanos. What did he want? Who knew what any of them wanted. Power. Dominion. Death. It didn’t matter; they were all the same. In a roundabout way, Loki owed him his life. Ultimus had gained a foothold into the other dimension because of the way the timelines had fractured. It had been the struggle against him that had led that other Loki to choose to sacrifice himself. He’d known his universe was a sinking ship that Ultimus had blown too many holes in and so he’d made the decision to cut it off, and in so doing, cut Ultimus off too.

This had bought time. Had the Norns pulled strings for that other Loki? Who knew. Time—and the multiverse—started to get odd if one thought about it too much. But Loki thought his actions, and the actions of his erstwhile alternate self, had bought years. Years for Thor and the Guardians of the Galaxy to meet, for Jane Foster and Loki to form a relationship, for Loki and Stephen Strange to come to trust each other, so that when the fight against Ultimus finally came, there would be forces prepared to stand against him and his army.

All of it culminated in a final stand against Ultimus in Norway, which had united Loki, Thor, the Valkyrie, the Lady Sif, New Asgard, Stephen Strange, Wong, and the Guardians of the Galaxy in a fight to save not just the planet, but the entire multiverse. Even with all that firepower, they still may have lost—but for a mysterious woman who called down lightning and thunder and wielded Mjølnir and called herself The Mighty Thor.

She’d been appearing for months, but it wasn’t until the battle that she’d removed her helmet and revealed her identity. Thor had received three shocks that day: 

  1. This reconstituted Mjølnir no longer answered to him. He couldn’t lift it. At the moment that he tried to, the rest of his powers had vanished, as well.
  2. This new Thor was Jane Foster, her hair still cropped short after nearly dying of cancer. She hadn’t. Loki didn’t know how, though how could he do anything but suspect magic? She’d once told him she hated the idea of being cured by magic. When Mjølnir had reformed in front of their eyes and rushed to her open palm, he’d remarked, “Well, it appears that you _can’t_ die now, Miss Foster.”
  3. Loki was alive.



They had won. At the end of the day, Ultimus was vanquished. Jane and Strange probably deserved most of the credit—they had done something that involved a lot of lightning and a lot of interdimensional portals. Loki didn’t mind giving Jane credit, but he was a little more sour about granting it to Strange.

In the end, none of it had really mattered to Loki. All that mattered was that finally, at long last, after a year of clawing and grasping for it, he could stand in front of Thor and tell him that he was still alive.

Even months later, Loki still didn’t know how to feel about the moment of their reunion. They had hugged. It had felt, for that time, like Thor would never let him go.

Anyway, after the battle, things had to be dealt with. Clean-up. Repairs. Injuries. Explanations. Loki had been dead for six years. Everything had changed. Like a child, Loki had assumed he would reappear to Thor and everything that had been wrong would magically be right again. Of all people, he should have known that wasn’t how magic worked.

They had fought side by side, like a sequel to that doomed battle on _The Statesman_ , only at the end of this one, they both emerged alive. Everything had felt right for an hour, perhaps two. They had laughed and joked together; Thor had asked Loki how it was possible for him to be there and Loki had explained, briefly, but Thor had kept interrupting him to laugh in disbelief.

Inevitably, the adrenaline wore off. Loki’s happiness had begun to feel manic, sickeningly empty, like a hard, bright, colorful shell over a core of nothingness. He had spent a year waiting for this moment. Now it had arrived, and it couldn’t possibly deliver everything he’d needed it to. Thor was still overweight; his hair and beard were still a tangled mess. There were still lines on his face. After the first few hours, the haunted grief had reappeared in his eye. These were never things that Loki would have been able to fix, but somehow, the fact that they continued to be true was like a punch to the gut.

Stephen Strange had told him this. He’d said Thor would never fully heal. Deep down, Loki had never quite believed it. An infantile part of him had wanted to believe that Thor _would_ heal, that Loki would be the cause of it, that everything could go back to the way it had been on _The Statesman_ , when their relationship had been better and more open that it had been for centuries.

Why would he doubt someone who had looked into the future? Strange had made it clear, over and over again, that he’d seen things. He also had not, in the nine months that Loki had lived at the Sanctum, ever made a habit of lying to Loki. When Strange had told Loki that Thor would never fully heal, it had been a warning.

It had been a warning that Loki was too much of a fool to heed. He hadn’t prepared himself, no matter how much he thought he had. He’d known the state his brother was in, but he’d still thought it would all evaporate the moment he appeared.

Reality had come crashing down in those hours after the battle, as night fell and a chilly wind blew off the fjord. Their conversation had fizzled to awkward questions buttressed by even more awkward silences. When a celebration had sprung up, Thor had practically leapt at the opportunity to do something besides be alone with Loki. He’d started drinking and kept drinking long past the point that he should have stopped. And while Thor had always been one to overindulge, this was…different. His brother was drinking to forget, even now, when everything was supposed to be right. Thor would have rather forgotten the past six years instead of being happy with what he had in the moment.

Loki couldn’t blame him. On some level, Thor and he could finally understand each other. Loki had never known how to be happy with what he had in the moment. Now Thor didn’t know how to be, either.

And quite honestly, standing there in New Asgard, with the smell of brine on the air and a whiff of fish, what remained of his people drinking something called Carlsberg, Loki wasn’t sure it was worth remembering the past year of his own life. If he could banish it all and go back to an earlier time, he would. Of course, if he did that, he would find a way to ruin it. He always did.

Loki had drunk too much, too. But unlike Thor, who grew more and more muddled and confused with each flagon of beer, Loki’s clarity only grew. This was too much for him to handle. He wasn’t ready for it. He’d never been ready and it had been the height of idiocy, of arrogance, of puerile folly, to ever think he’d been equipped to deal with this. He should go and spare everyone the inevitable disaster of his presence.

So he had secured the use of a ship from the Valkyrie—king, queen, whatever, though he didn’t care for the change in leadership—as it was clear that no one on Earth was as keen on his presence as they were Thor’s. She’d been happy to let him have it.

Actually, her exact words had been, “I’ve been trying to get someone to haul that piece of junk away for years.” He’d thought she might add something like, _if it blows up with you on it, that would take care of two pieces of garbage_ , but she didn’t. This was probably unfair of him to expect. They were friends, in their way, or at least they had been. Her last words to him before she’d left _The Statesmen_ had been, “Try not to do anything stupid.” From her, that was practically an admission of love.

It was one of the ships that he and Thor had sent away from _The Statesmen_ , actually, all those years ago, loaded far past capacity with sobbing refugees. Well, all those years ago for Thor. It had been a year for Loki. The ship hadn’t been in great shape then and it was in worse shape now after sitting on a cliff along the Norwegian coast for six years. But it was still spaceworthy. Loki couldn’t ask for much more.

That was about when the shouting had started. Thor had stomped onto _his_ ship, uninvited, and demanded, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Loki looked at him, raised his eyebrows, and said, “I wasn’t aware I had to submit a flight plan.” When sparks had sputtered around Thor’s fingertips, Loki had added, “Look, this thing is already in questionable condition, the last thing I need is you going all God of Thunder on it, even if it’s just residual God of Thunder.”

_That_ had been a cheap shot. Thor couldn’t summon lightning anymore, a development which he’d discovered about the same time he’d attempted to pick up Mjølnir and failed. The sparks were a remnant of what he’d been, and Loki _really_ knew better than to mock his brother over it. Then again, Loki had spent most of his life knowing better than to do things. He usually did them anyway.

Neither of them knew why Thor’s ability, his defining characteristic, had deserted him. Loki certainly had theories. But he’d had no intention of discussing them with Thor on the day of the battle, nor the awkward, uncertain days that followed. Was it because Thor had abandoned New Asgard? Was it because he’d fought Mjølnir’s new bearer, unable to see past his pride that his hammer answered to someone else? Or was there another reason that Loki couldn’t even guess at?

All he had were guesses, in any case. In the end, they’d never talked about it at all. Surprise. After everything that had happened on _The Statesman_ , after destroying another universe, after living at the Sanctum for nine months and thinking about how things would be better once Thor knew he wasn’t dead, they’d fallen straight back into their old habits.

It took Thor only a few strides to cross the ship to where Loki was standing in front of the controls. “ _Where_ are you _going?_ ” he repeated.

With a shrug, Loki said, “Well, I don’t know yet. I’m sort of homeless at the moment, so…”

“Homeless,” Thor said, like this was the most idiotic thing he’d ever heard. And then, “ _Homeless_.”

“I thought it was just an eye you were missing, not your hearing,” Loki said.

There was a pause. Then Thor shouted, “What the _hel_ is wrong with you? I mean really, seriously, _what_ the _hel_ is wrong with you? I thought you were _gone_ , I thought you were _dead_ , and now that you’re here you’re just going to _leave?_ ” His shoulders heaving, Thor sucked in a deep breath and bellowed, “YOU—ARE—THE—WORST—BROTHER!”

At this, Loki had tilted his chin up. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Thor grabbed him by the shoulders and Loki had met his glare with a hard look of his own. But Thor just stared at him, emotions roiling across his face and in his one good eye. The grip he had on Loki’s shoulders was painful, as though he feared that if he lessened his grip, Loki would slip away.

Finally Thor had said, “I’m going with you.”

And no one really had a good argument for why he shouldn’t, including Loki. He’d made some bad ones though, partly—oh, alright, _mostly_ , maybe completely—to see if Thor would keep insisting on accompanying him. Jane (The Mighty Thor, he supposed, but she’d always be Jane to him) had hefted Mjølnir over one shoulder and said, “We could use you here.” The Valkyrie and Sif had echoed the sentiment.

Thor had looked at the three of them and told them they could handle it. He was right, Loki informed him. Any one of those women could get more done in an afternoon than Thor could handle in weeks.

He was lying, of course, but it was worth it to see Thor’s face turn red. Or at least, it would have been a lie at one point, before Thor had turned into this new version of himself. Not that they weren’t all very capable, and not that he didn’t like them all, but Thor—and Loki would never say this out loud, but it lived in the pauses between all his sniping—Thor was supposed to be king. There were precious few people in the galaxy that had Loki’s respect, but most of it, it pained him to admit, was reserved for his brother.

So they’d left Earth together. As that brilliant blue dot receded into the black of space, Thor had clapped Loki on the shoulder and said, “The _real_ Asgardians of the galaxy.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki had said, glancing over at him.

Thor had chuckled and patted him on the back. His brother had become much more touchy-feely since Loki had arrived in the future. Er, the present. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but he tried not to shy away, because he could tell that it hurt Thor when he did.

Funny, that. _Not_ wanting to hurt Thor. Not that he didn’t manage plenty of sarcastic jabs, but this was…different, somehow. When Thor clapped him on the shoulder and Loki flinched away, Thor got this _look_ in his eye, as though he though he was doing something wrong. And Loki didn’t know how to explain—he’d been through so much, spent so much time longing to be reunited with his brother, to reveal he wasn’t dead. He didn’t know how to explain that he’d been pulled from _The Statesman_ by another version of himself for the express purpose of making things better, because that other version of Loki had lost his version of Thor, and death was preferable to living without him. How was Loki supposed to live up to that? He felt like a failure at it every single day.

He didn’t know how to explain everything that had happened, and the fact that after all of it, Thor was a stranger to him.

It wasn’t the weight. It hadn’t been the beard or the hair. Okay, it had kind of been the beard. No, it was the fact that when he looked into Thor’s eye, he saw pain. Grief. A brokenness that hadn’t been fixed when Loki had appeared, ta-da! Not dead. Actually quite alive. But it hadn’t been enough. He wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t repair what was broken.

Obviously. When had he _ever_ been able to repair anything broken, especially if he’d had a hand in breaking it himself?

So he did what he always did and hid how he felt. “The real Asgardians of the galaxy?” he’d repeated doubtfully.

“Just a joke,” Thor had said. “Because Rocket, Groot, Quill…they called themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy. So it’s a play on words. That’s up your alley, isn’t it?” When Loki had just arched an eyebrow, Thor had shrugged and said, “Maybe you had to be there.”

“I suspect that wouldn’t help,” Loki had said. Thor had laughed and Loki allowed himself a small, pleased smile. The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy sounded like something a simpleton would think up. Of course, his brother had come up with it, so that was exactly what had happened. But secretly, that was how Loki thought of the two of them.

Thor immediately took over. Whatever vague ideas Loki had about where he was going to take his ship were shelved. He complained, but not hard enough for Thor to consider taking him seriously.

The truth was, he felt lost. Adrift. When Ragnarok had happened, there had been too much happening to really sit and think about it. _The Statesmen_ was a freighter, certainly not built for the number of people it was carrying. Those people were traumatized. Upset. Frightened. Mourning those who hadn’t made it through Hela’s reign. Worried for what the future held, if they’d be welcomed on Earth. They’d needed all of Thor’s attention and energy and he’d had none to spare for himself. So that need had spilled over to the Valkyrie, because she happened to be good at it, and to Loki, because he was Thor’s second-in-command. Because Thor trusted him. Thor _trusted_ him.

It had given him purpose in a time when it would have been easy to sink into the lack of it.

And then there was Thor himself, and rebuilding the relationship between them that had so badly frayed. At times it felt like nothing bad had ever happened between them, but then all of it would return, an enormous wall which felt impossible to scale. Of course, Thor was big on just punching things out of his way. He’d given it his all, in other words. Loki had…struggled. But he’d tried, too.

He’d been happy. For those weeks aboard _The Statesmen_ , he’d been happier than he could remember being for a long time. He’d felt wanted and needed and though that shouldn’t have mattered, it still did.

But things were different now. The universe had moved on without him, quite literally. New Asgard was nothing like what he and Thor had imagined it to be as they’d talked about it in their shared cabin aboard _The Statesman_. There wasn’t a place for him there, even though Jane and Brunnhilde both assured him that there was. Brunnhilde’s assurances had involved a lot more variations on _don’t be an idiot_ than Jane’s—though Jane, in her way, had told him the same thing.

She had found him the day after the battle up on the cliffs, looking out over the fjord. There was no need to comment on the significance of the place. It was where his father had died, where Thor’s hammer had been destroyed, where Loki had brought Jane the last time he’d seen her before he’d thought her disease had finally claimed her life. 

Though she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and bright red rubber boots, she was still carrying Mjølnir. She had looked like she didn’t know what else to do with it. Loki didn’t blame her. It had occurred to him at some point, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, that were he to actually be able to lift it, he wouldn’t know what to do with it either.

Jane, though, had instinctively done the right thing. She’d used it to protect the people of Earth. Loki had a feeling he might have just tied messages on the handle and flung it randomly across the planet in order to spread absurd rumors. People would find it and unfold the paper he’d attached to it— _Captain America’s proudest achievement is the fact that he logged 601 hours on Animal Crossing. Tony Stark doesn’t know how to set the time on his microwave_.

Of course, these people were fallen heroes (or vanished heroes, in the case of the former), so perhaps he’d focus his energies on the living: _Stephen Strange housed and protected a known galactic criminal, one Loki Odinson, for nine months, without a single Earth government’s knowledge._ Sure to get Strange in trouble, but not particularly funny.

“Brunnhilde said you asked her for a ship,” Jane had said.

With a scoff, he’d said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s not willing to keep secrets for me.” Not true. He had actually been hurt that she’d blabbed.

Running the leather strap on Mjølnir through her fingers, Jane had said, “You don’t have to go.”

“Of course I do.” He’d brushed a hand through his hair, irritated by the way the wind was whipping it across his face, even though this was a stupid thing to be annoyed by. She was lucky hers was short. “I’ve told you before, I have no desire to stay in New Asgard. You’ve seen it in person now. Was it everything you were expecting?” He’d sneered this last part, though she was the last person who deserved his bile.

She hadn’t said anything. Even at the time, he’d known it was only because she’d thought he was being too difficult to make it worth arguing with him.

They’d stood in silence. Then, she’d said, “People are worried about you. Everyone thought you were dead. Now you’re here, and everyone can tell there’s something wrong.”

Glaring out at the blue water, Loki had asked, “Oh? That makes a change. I know you don’t know most of my history, Jane, but suffice to say, no one has ever been all that good at determining when something is wrong.”

Her lips had thinned. “So you’re really feeling sorry for yourself, huh?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle,” he’d replied.

She’d dropped Mjølnir to the ground. As always, it landed with a deep, heavy thud. The smell of crushed grass wafted up. “Loki,” she’d sighed, turning to him. “After all that time you spent missing Thor, you’re just going to run away? That doesn’t make any sense and you know it. And he needs you.”

His fists had clenched. If anyone else had dared to tell him that what went on in his mind made no sense, he’d probably have drawn his knives. At the very least, he would have cast an unpleasant spell to make them regret saying it. Because it was her, he’d allowed it to pass. “If Thor needs me, then Norns help him. Because I certainly can’t,” he’d said bitterly.

His brother was a different man. Loki was both the same and different, but he couldn’t decide how. He had always struggled to understand where he fit into everything, but it was a hundred times worse now.

He was unmoored. Untethered.

So if Thor wanted to fly around the galaxy listening for distress calls and saving people, Loki was happy enough to go along. It wasn’t what he _wanted._ But he was happy to be with his brother, despite nothing feeling right between them. Anyway, he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

The most recent of these many delightful stops was responding to an adrift vessel. Or at least, they’d _thought_ they were responding to an adrift vessel. When they got there, Thor was conscripted into assisting in the birth of the Luphomoid captain’s baby—which was funny until they needed someone to deal with the afterbirth and Loki had the only available hands. When they’d finally returned to _The Bifrost_ , Loki glaring venomously as he wiped blood and placental fluid off his hands and arms, Thor had said, “I told you, I thought they said ‘dead in the water.’”

“You heard _water_ and made the rest up,” Loki had snapped. “It was ‘water’ as in ‘her _water_ just broke, any midwives in the area?’”

Thor hadn’t bothered to hide how much he was enjoying the whole thing. His grin had gotten wider when he’d gestured to his own forehead and said, “You have something there.”

Ah, right. That was what they’d decided to call their ship. _The Bifrost_. Thor’s smile was deeply self-satisfied when he suggested it, after which he added, “Because this is how we have to travel now, since the actual Bifrost is…you know.”

_You know._ Closed to them, after Thanos had murdered Heimdall and Thor himself became unworthy to summon the necessary dark energy with Stormbreaker? Loki didn’t blame Thor for glossing over all of that.

Loki had raised his eyebrows. “Very clever, brother.”

After three months, though, it was clear that something needed to change. Something besides just about every part on their ship, which broke down constantly. In fact, they were on Contraxia looking for parts for it the first time either of them broached the subject of doing something…else.

The wind was whipping snow around the outdoor marketplace, hissing on the metal roofs of the stalls. Loki pushed his hair out of his face as he studied a spatial positioning system.

“I’ll take fifty for that,” the Contraxian running the stall said, nodding towards it.

Looking up at him, Loki gave him a tightlipped smile and asked, “Why so little? Something wrong with it?”

“Nah mate, nothing wrong with the PS. You just don’t see many people flying ships that take those anymore.” The man grinned. He was missing at least three teeth. “Unreliable. Those are the kind of ships that end up Sakaar, they are.”

Loki sniffed. “You don’t say.”

A hand clapped down on Loki’s shoulder and Loki looked over to see Thor standing there shivering. “Find anything?” he asked.

Holding up the spatial PS and shaking it a little, Loki said, “Fifty.”

Thor crinkled his forehead and asked, “Fifty? What’s wrong with it?” The man running the stall sighed, then brightened when Thor gestured for the payment pad. As the two of them walked away, Loki pocketing the PS, Thor wrapped his arms around himself. “I can’t believe you’re not freezing,” he said.

“My Jotun blood is good for something, after all,” Loki replied with a thin smile.

Thor looked uncomfortable at this, but he said gamely, “I think it’s useful.”

“Only if I happen to be somewhere frigid,” Loki replied. “And I don’t particularly care for the cold.” As Thor should have known. Perhaps he’d forgotten. He seemed to have forgotten enough in the past six years. “Contraxia aside, I haven’t been somewhere this cold in years.”

“New Asgard gets cold,” Thor said.

Loki ignored him. He knew what Thor was trying to do and he didn’t appreciate it.

“It’s not as though I need to worry about surviving on my birth planet,” he said, purposefully waspish. “Jotunheim is lost to us.” Holding up his hand, Loki ticked off on his fingers as he added, “Just like Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Muspelheim, and Niflheim. Not to mention Nornheim and Ria. Korbin. Harokin. Without the Bifrost—the real one, not the glorified junk heap parked over at the landing field—we’ll never have a way to reach any of them.”

Thor’s expression dimmed. “I think of it often,” he said quietly. “Another of my failures.”

Shit. He’d only wanted to shut Thor up about New Asgard. “I didn’t mean—” Loki said, too surprised by the swiftness of Thor’s mood change to stop himself. He shouldn’t have been. Thor’s moods had become almost as mercurial as Loki’s. This sort of thing happened often. It was another change which he couldn’t get used to.

But Thor looked at him, smiling sadly and shaking his head. “I know you didn’t.”

Loki glanced away, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “There wasn’t any other way. You said it yourself. Asgard had to be destroyed.” Looking back to Thor, he added with a flash of a crooked smile, “Anyway, I was the one who put Surtur’s crown in the Eternal Flame. You can legitimately blame this on me.” Norns knew he blamed himself, so what was the difference if Thor did, too?

If his smile was shot through with pain, well. They were the Odinsons, and that was just how things were now.

The two of them made their way through the market, Loki stopping now and then to study what was for sale. True to form, Thor showed less curiosity, though Loki supposed he could cut him a _little_ slack, as he hadn’t exactly dressed for the weather. Most likely, he’d taken his cue from Loki, who hadn’t dressed for the freezing surface of Contraxia either, because he didn’t need to. It was almost sweet how Thor forgot that Loki was Jotun.

They stopped—well, Loki stopped, and Thor chose to stop with him—at a stall selling books, of all things. Not something he’d expected to find on Contraxia. He flipped through one that was heavy and bound in something gold. It was in a language he didn’t know and which his Allspeak didn’t translate. As he flipped through it, wondering if it was worth learning, Thor said, “Is that book bound in Sovereign skin?”

Loki closed it delicately and put it back where he’d found it. Thor chuckled and said, “I’m surprised that bothers you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.” He lingered for another few minutes, ignoring Thor’s shivering, and bought a few books written in Asgardian. Not that they had room for such luxuries on _The Bifrost_ , but he desperately needed something to occupy him besides his own thoughts and Thor’s conversation. He’d store them in his pocket dimension if they got in the way. What they were doing—flying around the galaxy, helping people as they ran across them, it wasn’t that it was boring, it was just…

Alright, yes it was. It was boring.

Boring wasn’t the right word, exactly. Neither was it beneath them, though there was a time that Loki may have thought that. It was that they were capable of more. Weren’t they?

They picked up a few more parts for the ship before Loki relented and said they could go inside to warm up in one of better looking drinking establishments.

As two steaming mugs of Contraxia’s favorite liquor were plunked down in front of them, Thor stared broodingly at the pitted metal of the table. Loki sipped at the drink, for once downing a mug of booze faster than his brother, and looked around the room. Over the years, he’d been in many places like this, but it had been years since he’d sat in a bar with Thor. Funny. He’d never really enjoyed it. No, that was a lie. He had. There had been a time, when they’d been younger, that they’d gone drinking together on Asgard all the time. Sometimes the Warriors Three had accompanied them, but often they’d gone by themselves. As they’d grown older and grown apart, Loki had missed those nights.

Now, Loki just watched Thor. He was rubbing the back of his thumb on his beard—his short, well-groomed beard; the mess that had been on his face before had disappeared right around the time Loki had reappeared. Loki absolutely took full credit for that. His hair was short again, too. The weight was coming off, though Loki had found the hair and beard far more offensive. And that replacement eye. Honestly, Loki had been thinking about ripping it out himself before it had been cut out all over again in battle. He actually found the extra weight sort of endearing. Proof that his brother was just like everyone else, after all.

Though of course, he wasn’t like everyone else. Even though Mjølnir had been taken from him and he’d given up the throne, you couldn’t completely take the God of Thunder out of Thor. At least, Loki hoped you couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he would know what to do if Thor was unworthy for good.

“I wish there was a way to get to the other Realms,” Thor said, his voice low. “I fear they’ve descended into chaos.”

Ah. So Thor was still thinking of that. Well, of _course_ Thor was still thinking of it. If Loki thought of it as often as he did, there was no way that it wouldn’t cross Thor’s mind at _least_ as much. When Loki didn’t say anything, Thor looked up at him. So Loki arched an eyebrow and said, “I could lie about either possibility?”

Thor looked back down at the table and pulled his drink closer. He lifted it to his mouth and drained it in several deep gulps, then set it down with a clatter. “Don’t bother.”

A Love Bot brought two more drinks, looking first at Thor, then turning away and swinging her hips in Loki’s direction. _That_ made a change. Probably because he wasn’t carrying forty extra pounds. He held a hand up and smiled to demur, and she walked away, her gait stuttery. That explained why she was down here serving drinks instead of upstairs.

It bothered Loki too, the loss of the other Realms, even if, perhaps, he hadn’t been the greatest steward of them while he’d been king. That was what Thor’s job was, taking care of the other Realms while Odin—well, Loki—concerned himself with the most important of them. Still, now that they were gone, lost in Yggdrasil without the Bifrost to travel between them, it did rather hit home that most of them were defenseless. They’d depended on Asgard to protect them and now Asgard was gone.

Then inspiration hit him. He was a fool— _this_ was the answer. Or maybe he was a fool for seriously considering what he was suddenly considering. But hadn’t he just been thinking they were cut out for more than what they’d been doing for three months?

“Thor,” he said slowly, tracing a finger along the rim of his mug. “What if there _was_ a way to reach the other Realms again?”

“There isn’t,” Thor said flatly. “Not without the Bifrost.”

Loki pressed his lips together, watching the steam rise out of his mug. It still wasn’t all that warm in the bar. “What if we rebuild the Bifrost?” he asked quietly, as though if he said it at a lower volume, it made it less mad.

Thor’s head snapped up and his eyebrows drew together. He stared across the table. Then, finally, he asked, “How would we do that?”

Hm, actually a better reaction than Loki had expected. He’d been lining up arguments for why they should give it a try, even if it was obviously impossible. It started with ‘we’re gods, if anyone can do the impossible, it’s us,’ and that was all he had so far. Instead, he said, “I don’t know.” Holding out a hand, he added, “But it was built once. Why can’t it be built again?”

“It was built with the power of the Allfather,” Thor pointed out, like this was a death blow to the whole idea.

“Which flows through your veins,” Loki countered.

“Does it?” Thor said.

Loki gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t be stupid.”

Waving a hand, Thor said, “Look, it sounds all well and good, let’s rebuild the Bifrost! We can do it, we’re gods!”

Well, at least he would have agreed on that point.

Thor took a long drink from his mug and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “The problem is, I have no idea how to rebuild the Bifrost, and I don’t think you do, either.”

“I don’t,” Loki agreed. “But I can think of a place to start.” When Thor looked at him questioningly, he drew in a deep breath. “We can return to Asgard.”

When Thor stared at him, Loki wondered if he needed to clarify that he meant ‘we can return to where Asgard _used to_ be.’ But then Thor said, “There’s nothing there. You know that. You saw it blown to bits the same as I did.”

Loki nodded. He’d still been in _The Commodore_ , actually, making sure it was secured to _The Statesman’s_ hull, when Surtur had buried his sword in Asgard’s core. He’d been alone to watch his handiwork. Ragnarok. The destruction of the only home he’d ever known. No, it didn’t need that disclaimer. The destruction of his home. It had hurt, even though it had been the only way.

“I know that. But there may still be something floating out there. Look, I know it sounds like madness, but I just—” At the frustrated note in his voice, Loki stopped. Took a breath, and rested his palms on the edge of the table. More calmly, he said, “I just think we could be doing…something else.”

“What do you mean, something else?” Thor asked, sounding like he knew exactly what Loki meant.

There was still time to shake his head and say _never mind_. That would avoid a disagreement. When, though, had Loki ever shied from disagreement with his family? “Brother, it’s not that I don’t find what we’re doing _vastly_ rewarding. Doing the galactic equivalent of rescuing a kitten stuck in a tree; it really _does_ fill me with warm fuzzies. But imagine if we could reunite the Nine Realms.” That had escalated quickly, from rebuilding the Bifrost to reuniting the Nine Realms, but Loki prided himself on never doing things halfway.

Thor drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do I get a vote?” Loki asked. “Or do we do what you decide?”

“I’m the captain,” Thor said.

“It’s my ship, and I’m the pilot,” Loki retorted.

“It’s _our_ ship,” Thor said like he was correcting him. When Loki pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, Thor repeated. “I’ll think about it. Truly, brother.”

Loki drew in a breath and let it out in a rush, his cheeks puffing out melodramatically. “Fine,” he said, then drained the rest of his drink. “But think quickly. We’re going to run out of people to rescue at this rate.”

That drew a rare eye roll from Thor, which Loki didn’t appreciate. That was _his_ move. “There’s never any shortage of people to save,” Thor said.

Loki snorted but didn’t respond. Thor finished his drink, and the two of them left to make their way back to _The Bifrost_ , such as it was.

* * *

That had been two weeks ago. On several occasions, Loki had nearly broached the subject again, but something had stopped him. If he said something, Thor might give a definitive no, and Loki surprised himself with his desire for that to not happen. He couldn’t articulate why. He just knew this was important to him, and he had to find a way to convince Thor. Despite the fact that he was the single most convincing person he’d ever met—really, who could resist his smile—Thor had developed an unfortunate tendency in the past fifteen years to detect when Loki was manipulating him, or simply trying to talk him into something in a less than forthright way.

Then they’d run across a shipful of Kree who _apparently_ Thor had managed to irritate during his travels (surprise) and who hadn’t gotten over it yet (double surprise). They hadn’t much wanted to talk it out, either, after they’d realized who they were dealing with. So, one extremely one-sided firefight and an emergency jump later found them with no weapons, severely damaged hull plating, a fried communications system, and no navigation. They’d had several hours’ respite—enough for Loki to take a nap—before they’d been tracked down and followed through the jump point.

Loki remained in front of the ship’s controls, his arms crossed over his chest, as he listened to Thor stomp around in the galley and eventually crack open one of those disgusting cans of beer that he’d insisted on loading up the fridge unit with. “So, ‘let’s get the nav system fixed’ means, ‘Loki, fix the nav system?’”

There was no answer, just the sound of another can opening.

He rolled his eyes and sat down, almost falling as the chair rocked backwards. “It’s good to be home,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	3. Chapter 3

It was amazing how much you could get done with non-verbal communication. Loki and Thor moved around each other for hours without saying a word, the silence stiff and cold. Loki discovered that their latest jump had fried the jump drive. The impulse engines weren’t exactly in what he’d call full working order, either. He could tell that Thor understood what he’d found, since he went belowdecks to look at it himself after Loki had abandoned it for the evening.

They ate dinner in silence as well. Not exactly together, but at roughly the same time, and since the galley was tiny, there wasn’t much choice but to eat at the table. Especially after Thor tried to sit in the loose chair on the bridge and spilled half of his frozen lasagna down his front.

Eventually, they climbed into their berths, one stacked over the other and set into the bulkhead. Thor had taken the top one when he had decided to join Loki, claiming that it had more head room and since he was taller, it made sense for him to have it. “We’re practically the same height,” Loki had said.

“I don’t think so,” Thor had replied.

The ship creaked even more than it normally did as the two of them settled in to go to sleep. Hopefully it was just the armor and the hull plating that was damaged and not the hull itself. Otherwise, they’d soon be floating out there too. A couple more Asgardian relics.

Loki tossed and turned, even less able to get comfortable than normal. Why couldn’t he find a suitable position for his arms? He put the back of his hand on his forehead, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Thor wanted to give him the silent treatment over coming here? Loki could play that game. Maybe. Actually, in truth he was terrible at it. This was probably a situation where Thor’s inability to form full sentences came in handy. Loki _hated_ being ignored, especially when he wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong.

The creaking began to lull him to sleep, despite his agitation. And then, suddenly, Thor whispered, “Loki.”

Loki opened his eyes but didn’t respond.

“Are you awake?” Thor added, still whispering.

He remained silent, wondering why Thor would make any kind of effort to talk to him after hours of angry silence. Irritation prickled at him. He _hadn’t_ done anything wrong—he’d done the opposite, actually, saving their lives and bringing them somewhere that they’d talked about going, even if they hadn’t technically _agreed_ to it. The fact that Thor wanted to talk _now_ made Loki want to slam a door in his face. But of course, there was a rather limited supply of doors on _The Bifrost_ , and he was worried if he slammed any of them, that they might simply fall apart.

“It’s not you I’m angry at, brother,” Thor said, his voice low. Loki opened his eyes again but didn’t make a sound. Why was Thor still talking? Loki hadn’t responded.

“I mean,” Thor murmured, “maybe I’m a little angry at you. You make it easy, you have to admit.” _That_ was almost enough to make Loki open his mouth and object, but he held his tongue. There was a pause, and then Thor said, “It’s hard to be back here. At Asgard. I know things have been hard for you too, I don’t mean to…to ignore your struggles, brother.”

Well, that was something. Loki decided to keep listening. As though he had a choice. If he moved enough to cover his ears, Thor would know he was awake.

“It’s just…” Thor gave a frustrated sigh. “Do you know the feeling you get when you’ve avoided something truly awful? The kind of thing you don’t realize at the time that you avoided, but when you find out later how close you were to disaster, you…panic. You panic that somehow by finding out how near a miss it was, you’ll make it happen, even though it already didn’t happen?” He paused. Loki was listening closely now. He _did_ know this feeling. He knew it well. It surprised him that Thor did, too.

Slowly, Thor went on, “That’s what it’s like. Being back here. That feeling. Losing most of our people was terrible, unthinkable, but…” There was another pause. Another sigh. “You were gone for good, brother. And now you’re back, and being here, where the whole horrible chain of events started, it’s like…like…” Silence. “Like it’s all going to vanish in front of me. Like all of this is one of your illusions, somehow. Like…I’ll lose you again.” There was another pause. Was he finished?

Thor snorted. “Stupid. I’m glad you’re asleep. You’d say I’m being ridiculous.”

True.

Still. The rawness in Thor’s voice made something in Loki ache. His brother had been in such a state of…well, such a state after Thanos had attacked _The Statesmen_ , and for the years after. Honestly, Loki had died so many times that he’d have thought Thor would have been used to it by then. He’d been wrong.

“But nothing makes sense anymore.”

Oh, Thor was still talking. “You’re here, and if the impossible can happen once, it can happen again.” There was a creak from above as Thor shifted, and then silence. Loki stared at the underside of Thor’s berth, every groan from the ship’s hull seeming too loud. Something painful was pricking at him, and he couldn’t identify it because he hated feeling this way, hated that the people that he loved had such a hold over him. And as the people he loved—never great in number—were whittled down, that hold became correspondingly concentrated.

Sentiment had never done anyone any favors.

He was glad Thor had stopped talking.

But then Thor shifted again and said more softly, “I’m sorry for my anger earlier.” And then, “I’m glad you’re here, Loki.”

Loki kept staring at the berth, but he had to close his eyes tightly and ignore the idiotic feeling of tears welling behind his eyelids. This time, when Thor fell silent, he didn’t speak again. But if he was asleep, his breathing didn’t change—which meant he was probably lying there awake, just as Loki was. Which also meant, if Thor was smart (which he wasn’t, but still), he’d be able to tell by Loki’s breathing that _he_ wasn’t asleep either.

And that, frankly, was too much for him to handle. It had been a long day. So Loki closed his eyes tightly and tried to wipe his mind clean until he dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The silence was easier the next morning.

It was still silence, but it was the sort where speaking at _that_ particular moment wasn’t necessary, as opposed to the kind where it felt imperative to say every hurtful thing you could think of, and the silence was meant to wound just as badly. Around mid-morning—which was totally arbitrary, but they were still on New Asgard time—Loki managed to bring the jump drive partly online, letting out a quiet, “ _Ha._ ”

Hollow footsteps thumped on the deck overhead. “Did you fix it?” Thor’s voice said from the access panel.

Loki considered not answering, but then he relented. The fact that they weren’t speaking felt performative at this point, anyway. Thor had never held onto his anger, and Loki could maybe, just possibly, see the value in that. “Not quite. Maybe by tomorrow.” He spent another moment staring at the collection of wires and tubes arranged in a cylinder around the drive’s antimatter reactor, then replaced the housing and climbed to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling all morning, but there wasn’t enough room for him to stand belowdecks. Because he was tall. Practically the same height as Thor.

As he boosted himself up onto the deck, Thor said, his mouth clearly full of something, “I could take a look at it later.”

Loki glanced at him as he brushed off his pants. At least his brother was eating a piece of fruit. Obviously it had been Loki that had insisted on buying it on their last supply run, but it was good to see Thor snack on something besides the junk food he’d brought from Earth. Though, he supposed it was possible the junk food had run out and the fruit had been selected as a snack out of desperation. “If you’d like.”

Neither of them really knew what they were doing—which had been terrifying at first. But now, either through complacency or acceptance of the constant threat of blowing themselves up through incompetence, neither of them spent much time worrying about it. Luckily the jump drive was pretty hardy. The most it had required until this point had been tune-ups; they’d taught themselves how to do those. A repair was sort of like a tune-up, right?

Well, that, at least, was what Thor would say, and at a certain point, one had to close their eyes and just try to do things like Thor. That certain point being when you were two former Asgardian princes on a jump-capable ship on which everything was constantly breaking down. It was either chance it and fix whatever was broken, or float in space until they suffocated.

Thor nodded. “You can try to figure out what’s wrong with the nav while I work on the jump drive.”

“Sounds delightful,” Loki said dryly. Being in close range of Thor’s cursing and yelling when he inevitably forgot that he couldn’t stand up straight belowdecks, then slammed his skull on the ceiling, was always a treat.

There was a long, pregnant pause, and then Thor nodded and took another loud, crunching bite out of the piece of fruit—some kind of apple, but not like anything that had grown on Asgard. That thought pricked at Loki. He’d never taste anything that was grown on Asgard ever again. Over the millennia, of course, crops had been exported to the other Realms. But they’d evolved to suit their new environments. They wouldn’t be the same.

This happened. It was always something small, some tiny thing that wedged itself in the gaps in his armor and opened him to a sudden gut punch of pain that his home was _gone._ Not just far away, but blown to atoms. He’d never see it again, never sit by the water and listen to gulls, never hole himself up in the library, surrounded by stillness and the smell of leather, parchment, and ink, never go into town for a flagon of Asgardian mead. It was mind-boggling to think that his life had consisted mostly of these things not twenty years ago. And now all of it was gone. He had thrown all of it away—and then he’d destroyed it.

If Thor noticed the distance in Loki’s gaze, he didn’t comment, instead removing himself to the galley to finish his apple.

Loki sighed. Damn Thor, damn him and his sentimental speeches and his fathomless affection; what was Loki supposed to do in the face of that?

So he followed his brother, standing there in silence as Thor finished the apple, core and all. “No seeds in this thing,” Thor said. “Have you had one?”

Loki ignored this question. But yes, he’d eaten several, actually, and had wanted Thor to eat one too, not that he’d ever stoop to asking him. With a fortifying breath, he sat down and folded his hands together, resting his elbows and forearms on the table. “I’m not going to apologize for bringing us here,” he said. Thor looked up at him, his expression unreadable. “But,” Loki went on, “I _will_ concede—after a great deal of consideration—that perhaps I ought to have given you some advance warning about where I was taking us.”

There was a long silence, until finally Thor nodded and said, “Apology accepted.”

“No, it wasn’t an apology,” Loki said, holding up a finger. Thor smiled at him smugly and Loki sighed.

With a shrug, Thor said, “Sounded like an apology to me, but alright.”

There was a silence. The hull was still extra creaky. They needed to decide if one of them was going to go out there to look at it or if it could wait until the next time they found a half-decent repair yard. Loki rubbed his finger along the edge of the table. “With both of us working on repairs, we could probably leave sometime tonight.”

Thor grunted. “But you don’t think we should do that.”

“Well, I _do_ think we should repair the ship.”

“You know what I mean.”

Glancing up at Thor, Loki said, “I don’t, no.”

Thor regarded him. Then, he asked, “Why does this mean so much to you?”

This hadn’t been the response Loki was expecting. “It doesn’t,” he said.

There was something about the way Thor stared with just the one eye that made it much harder to maintain eye contact with him. Maybe it was the fact that Loki couldn’t help being reminded of their father. Maybe it was the years of additional pain all concentrated in that one eye. Maybe it wasn’t just the pain, but also the…wisdom? Now _there_ was a ridiculous thought. His brother, all brawn and no brains, _wise_.

He was being unfair, because he hated that Thor had asked him this question, and he obviously had no choice but to lie. “It doesn’t,” he repeated, more firmly.

“You know, brother,” Thor said, “just because you _say_ you don’t care about something, that doesn’t make it actually true.”

“I _don’t_ care,” Loki said. Gods, he sounded like a child. Alright then, _did_ he care? Possibly. Probably. Why? Why had he cared about any of the things he’d ever cared about? _What_ had he cared about, all these years? It seemed like it should have been an easy question to answer. The problem was, Loki knew he’d cared about a lot of the wrong things, and some of the right things for the wrong reasons. A throne, any throne, to prove that he was good enough to hold one. Power, so Thor and their father would see that he was no less than them. Hurting the people he loved, because they’d hurt him.

At least there _were_ people he loved. At least he always _had_ loved them, despite how fraught his relationship with Thor and his father had been. He had a feeling it was the only thing that had saved him.

That, and Asgard. Whatever anyone had thought of him through the years, about his motives, his actions, his tricks and scheming, he truly had always loved Asgard. He hoped he’d always had its best interests at heart. He’d tried to.

Why did he care? Because his people deserved better than what they had right now. And because Thor was meant for more than this.

“Are we leaving tonight or not?” Loki asked.

Thor put an elbow on the table and rested the side of his head on his fist, staring at Loki. Then, he said, “Rebuild the Bifrost. Reunite the Nine Realms.” Loki nodded and Thor let out of whoosh of air. “The two of us?”

Flashing a smile at him, Loki said, “Someone has to try.”

“Loki, it’s madness,” Thor said. “It’s a fool’s errand. It can’t be done. This isn’t like—” He hesitated, then went on, “This isn’t like when I destroyed the Bifrost and we rebuilt it.”

Ah. Diplomatic. One might say that Loki bore some of the responsibility for that. And to use the first person plural, and imply that he’d had anything to do with its rebuilding, well, that was just a kindness.

Thor sighed again and leaned back against the galley bench, his hands resting on the table. “It’s impossible,” he said.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Hasn’t the impossible already happened?” He met Thor’s eyes, the small smile on his face that he wore when he wanted his expression to be inscrutable.

There was another long silence. Thor rubbed a hand over his face and looked towards the window over the table, then away again. The stars were shining bright out there, some of them hazy through the cloud of dust that remained. The cloud of vaporized Asgard. One of Thor’s hands clenched into a fist, then loosened. With a snort of laughter, he said, “That’s the least convincing argument I’ve ever heard for anything, you know.”

His smile widening and growing a little more crooked, Loki said, “Oh, I’m positive I convinced you to go along with my plans on thinner arguments than _that_ when we were children.”

“Your _schemes_ , you mean,” Thor said, to which Loki shrugged. “And stop giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“That look you get when you’re trying to be too charming to say ‘no’ to.”

Loki sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked at Thor seriously. Fine, he’d play fair. Obviously he could have gotten his way by deploying the smile and playing the _but I was dead and now I’m back_ card, but that wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as convincing Thor that this was the best course of action. Also, he supposed, _technically_ , convincing Thor was the right thing to do, rather than guilting him into it.

“The other Realms need us,” he said. “Jane, Brunnhilde, and Sif have their hands full running New Asgard. We’re all that’s left of Asgard’s defenders.”

“You should really call her King Brunnhilde,” Thor muttered.

Loki thought about saying _no_ flatly and definitively, but then they’d get sidetracked, and this was important. “When has the fact that something is a stupid idea ever stopped you?” he asked instead. “When have you _ever_ , in your life, stopped trying to save something, even when it was clearly a lost cause?”

At this, Thor gave him a knowing look, then just shook his head. “You haven’t lost your touch,” he said, sounding amused.

With a sniff, Loki said, “The fact that you’d entertain the idea that I would is insulting.”

The hull creaked again, loudly, and Thor glanced in the direction of the sound. “You know,” he said, “one of us is probably going to have to go out and take a look at that. Unless you think it can wait until we get to a repair yard?”

It was hard not to smile and roll his eyes at these words, almost identical to Loki’s own thoughts on the subject. He hated having a brother. Thank the gods he did.

He remained silent, one eyebrow arched, and Thor let out a long-suffering, exasperated sigh. He ran a hand through his short hair and glanced out the window again, his shoulders tensing. He was forcing himself to keep looking, Loki knew. If there was still anything there to look at, they’d be looking out right now at Asgard’s shining palace, her gleaming walls, water tumbling off the edge of the planet in a froth of vapor, the Rainbow Bridge sparkling in the sunlight.

Loki knew how it was to feel as though you were the only one in pain. But Thor needed to understand that Asgard’s loss hurt him just as much, and that what he needed was the brother who never gave up on anything, who would undertake a quest of the utmost stupidity to take that pain and stuff all of it into fixing what had caused it in the first place. The two of them had destroyed their own planet and it still hadn’t saved them.

Thor sighed again. Then, he looked at Loki and said, “So, where do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	4. Chapter 4

Their ship was still a glorified studio apartment floating dead in space, so they started by repairing it. Loki got the navigation system working, then squashed himself into the remaining space near the jump drive and make a few suggestions to Thor.

“I was going to do that next,” Thor said as the jump drive spun up, glowing yellow with the promise of full functionality.

“I’m sure you were,” Loki said in a tone that very clearly conveyed the opposite.

The impulse drive was a quicker fix than either of them had anticipated. One of the boards inside just needed to be re-soldered—it took longer to find the problem than it did to repair it.

Loki had been hoping that, during the course of the repairs, inspiration would strike, and he’d come up with a way to start on rebuilding the Bifrost. It didn’t. Nothing came to him. Nothing at all. How were two Asgardians supposed to accomplish something like that? He didn’t have the faintest idea of how the Bifrost had actually _worked._ Heimdall had understood it, and perhaps Odin. That wasn’t any help.

He wouldn’t have gone so far as to say the mechanics of the Bifrost hadn’t interested him. Most things interested him on some level—he was, and always had been, curious, which was a trait that had gotten him into trouble on many occasions. But the Bifrost had been a utility. A mode of transportation, and one that he hadn’t particularly liked. Using it had always made it feel as though his molecules were being scrambled, like he emerged from it a very slightly different person than who he’d been upon entering it. And as someone who’d always been unsure of who he was and afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep even that tenuous hold, he hadn’t needed anything loosening it even more.

It seemed foolish now. A massive oversight. The Bifrost had been integral to Asgard. The Bifrost, in some ways, _was_ Asgard.A symbol of Asgard’s strength and power, its control over the other Realms. That tunnel of rainbow light appearing in the sky was a harbinger to all the other races within Yggdrasil’s branches—a harbinger that the Aesir were watching, a reminder that the Gatekeeper’s golden eyes were on them. For Loki to have known this—and he had—and not bothered to learn more was a sign of callow ignorance that he liked to think he was immune to.

Then again, he’d been ignorant about so many things. Was it a surprise that this was another to add to the list?

So two days passed, then a third. Loki spent much of that time folded on the bench in the galley, arms resting on his knees, while Thor fixed the comm system. Which was good. They needed a working comm system—but then Thor listened to it, tuning to different channels, looking for their next rescue mission. _That_ was annoying, and Loki snapped at him more than once to turn it down. Every time, Thor asked, “Think of anything yet?”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki finally snarled. Thor put his hands up as though he hadn’t meant anything by it. Obviously, he had.

Finally, on the third day, as they were sharing a frozen dinner (macaroni and cheese, which Thor had assured Loki he’d love. He didn’t.), Thor said, “We have to do something about the hull.”

Loki speared an overcooked pasta tube on his fork and held it up, grotesquely fascinated by the way the…cheese? oozed off it and fell back to the plastic container in glops. “I’ll go out and look at it,” he said.

“No.”

At this refusal, Loki’s eyes shifted from the dripping macaroni and cheese to Thor. “I beg your pardon?” he said, though he’d heard perfectly well.

“You’re not going out there,” Thor said, his tone blunt. When Loki glared at him, Thor repeated, “You’re not.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “There’s something wrong with the hull.”

Thor put down his fork. “Yes, there’s something wrong with it. And we’re going to a shipyard to have a professional look at it.” He held up a hand as Loki made an inarticulate sound of disagreement and said, “Loki, I’m very impressed by your boldness. But going out there is stupid.”

“I suppose if anyone would know ‘stupid,’ it’s you,” Loki sniped. “Why shouldn’t I go out there?”

His brother ignored the jab and went straight to answering the question, which in retrospect, maybe Loki shouldn’t have asked. It only gave Thor an opening to make a logical argument. Thor held up a finger. “One, you don’t know what you’re doing. _Two_ ,” he said over Loki’s protestation that this hadn’t stopped them from making any of the repairs they already had, “we only have one EVA suit.”

“I only _need_ one EVA suit,” Loki said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to count?”

Thor fixed him with a stern, entirely-too-Odin-esque look, and said, “Shut up for a second, would you?” When Loki didn’t provide any commentary to this, Thor said, “If you got into trouble out there, we’d need two EVA suits.”

Giving him a sneering look, Loki said, “The god who bore the full force of a dying star needs an EVA suit?”

One of Loki’s projects, since he’d been handed a second chance at his life, had been piecing together what he’d missed of Thor’s. _That_ particular story, of Stormbreaker’s forging, had been told to him so many times now that it had grown dull. Of _course_ Thor would do something like that. The only person who’d had anything useful to add to the story was the raccoon, who, when Loki had rolled his eyes, had said, “You know, I’m pretty sure he was doing it to avenge _you_ , asshole, so maybe give him a break.”

Being called out by an abrasive rodent about how he treated his brother had been strange enough for Loki to actually do what he’d suggested, at least momentarily.

Thor glared at him and it actually made Loki feel a little guilty. “Don’t,” Thor said, a warning in his voice. A warning and an unhealed wound. Loki may have been given a reprieve, but Thor had still lived with his death for all those years. Him being here now couldn’t ever change that.

After suffering through another mouthful of macaroni and cheese, Loki said, “Was there another reason?”

“Yes.” Thor drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s not doing us any good just sitting here.”

At this, Loki straightened up from the slouch he’d been sinking into, knowing he wasn’t keeping the betrayed look off his face. Was there any point in saying anything? Pointing out that this time, they _had_ agreed?

“I know you think I’m giving up before we’ve even started,” Thor said, a knowing look in his eye. “And that I haven’t given a single thought to rebuilding the Bifrost.”

Both of these things were true, but Loki didn’t say so. Thor sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “But I _have_ been thinking, brother. And what I’ve been thinking is that floating here, with all this death around us, isn’t helping either of us to think.”

This, too, may have been true. Loki hadn’t slept well since they’d arrived. When he closed his eyes, it was as though he could feel the accusing gazes of everyone they hadn’t saved. And that made him think of everyone in the other Realms who might currently need saving. His brain felt like it wasn’t working quite right, and considering they were starting with absolutely nothing to go on, having a half-functioning brain wasn’t exactly helpful.

“What do you suggest, then?” Loki asked.

Thor looked relieved. What, had he been expecting a brawl? Maybe just more vitriol. As a rule, Loki avoided physical confrontations with his brother, unless he was feeling particularly masochistic. If you couldn’t get in a surprise stab, it really wasn’t worth it. Ah, maybe Thor thought he was going to wake up with a blade in his shoulder.

Folding his hands on the table, Thor said, “We go to the Lagoon, let someone who knows what they’re doing fix this thing. While we’re there, we ask around. The Lagoon sees a lot of traffic. Who knows, there may be an Asgardian that’s passed through there.”

There was something oddly addicting about this frozen dinner. Loki took another bite, then raised an eyebrow. “That seems unlikely. Aren’t most of the stray Asgardians accounted for by now?”

With a shrug, Thor said, “It took Sif awhile to find her way to New Asgard.”

“True.” Eyeing the macaroni, Loki said, “I suppose it’s a good thing I banished her, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure she thinks so.”

Cracking a small smile, Loki said, “Well, that’s only because it was me. If _you’d_ banished her, she’d have been falling over herself to leave Asgard.”

Snorting, Thor said, “She suspected you.”

“Of course she did.” Loki rolled his eyes. “She was always the smartest of your friends.” It had been the fidgeting. After Sif and Volstagg had returned from Knowhere—where Loki had sent them to give the Aether into the Collector’s keeping—Sif had requested an audience with him. With “Odin.” He’d fidgeted with his hands and her eyes had lingered. He’d known then that he had to get her away from Asgard.

“They were your friends too, once,” Thor said.

“Were they?” Loki scraped some cheese from the plastic tray with his fork and stuck it in his mouth. There was a haunted look in Thor’s eye and it was no mystery why. The Warriors Three had been summarily dispatched by Hela and he hadn’t found out until a day or two into their sojourn on _The Statesman_. The two of them had raised a glass to their fallen comrades, though Loki wasn’t sure he’d actually mourned Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg. Any friendship between the four of them had begun and ended with a mutual affection for Thor, which Loki had been too naïve to see when he’d been young. Still, he’d fought at their sides many times over the years, saved their lives just as they’d saved his, and his liking for them probably outweighed his dislike.

Anyway, he’d seen how much Thor missed them, and that was enough for him to wish they’d managed to live through his sister’s purge.

This tangent was a mistake, as all it served to do was remind Thor of all the death and destruction that littered their recent history. “The point is,” Loki said, “I find it highly unlikely that we’re going to just happen to run across an Asgardian on the Lagoon. Even if we do, the chances of them knowing something about the Bifrost are basically zero.”

“You sound like you’re trying to talk yourself out of a plan that _you_ came up with in the first place,” Thor said.

“No,” Loki replied. Thor had a point, though. What was he arguing for, exactly? There was nothing here, in the asteroid belt formerly known as Asgard, that was going to inspire him to some kind of mystical knowledge about how to rebuild the Bifrost. Even if they definitely _weren’t_ going to find another Asgardian at the Lagoon, going there couldn’t hurt. The Bifrost hadn’t been built in a day, right?

At least, he didn’t think so.

He scooped up another forkful of macaroni and cheese, and after chewing and swallowing it, he said, “Alright, we’ll go to the Lagoon. If nothing else,” he added with an arched eyebrow, “I need a new pair of boots.”

Rolling his eyes, Thor said, “Has anyone ever told you you’re extremely vain, brother?”

“You, six days ago, but who’s counting?”

Thor chuckled, then pulled the plastic tray towards himself. Half of the macaroni and cheese was gone. Or, er, possibly slightly more than half. “Told you you’d like it, by the way,” he said with a grin.

Loki dropped his fork into the tray. “My tastebuds must have been permanently damaged from all the other delicacies you brought on board.” At this, Thor chuckled again. Loki sighed, stood up, and went to dig through their rather depleted refrigerator. Another good reason to go to the Lagoon, then. Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed it and plunked several carrots, the last of what they’d brought from Earth, down in front of Thor. “Eat something decent, would you?” he said.

Thor picked up a carrot and took a bite of it, then smirked and said, his mouth full of food, “I love you too, brother. What would I do without you?”

“Shut up,” Loki said, and went to put in the coordinates to the Lagoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	5. Chapter 5

TRAOTG:

The engineer had been tapping away at her tablet for about two minutes longer than Loki liked. That could only mean one thing. When she handed over the repair order, it was going to be costly in both time and money. The former, he supposed, they had plenty to spare. The latter, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly in great surplus. It was a shock, after wanting for nothing for his whole life, to be penniless, or near enough. Their titles meant little, since everyone knew by now of Asgard’s demise. More significantly, given their current situation, everyone knew of the demise of all of Asgard’s wealth that had been accumulated over the years.

It was a small blessing that most people did _not_ know anything about New Asgard. It was one thing to be part of the Asgardian diaspora. At least there was some pathos to be wrung out of that. It was quite another to be a citizen of the cold, wet, reeking fishing town of New Asgard. The only thing one could wring out of that was salt water and the stench of rotting fish guts.

“Well?” Loki finally asked impatiently. Thor elbowed him. Loki ignored this and kept staring at the engineer.

She stopped, cocked her head at her tablet, and then looked up. “Which one of you does this ship belong to?”

Thor opened his mouth and Loki quickly said, “Me. It’s mine.” Holding out a hand, he said, “What’s the damage?”

As he took the tablet from her, she said, “Worse for your accounts than your ship. I can fix _that_. It’s just going to cost you.”

“I can see that,” Loki said sourly, his eyes scanning the repair order. Glancing at Thor, he said, “Perhaps it _is_ your ship, after all.” There weren’t enough units in Loki’s account to cover this, not by a long shot.

Thor took the tablet, his face impassive, stuck in a thoughtful frown. “When can you have it fixed?” he asked.

Her third eye swiveling to look at Thor, the engineer said, “Three days. Your ablative armor needs to be totally replaced, and most of the plating on the bow is coming loose. What did you do, get in a firefight with a Kree warship?” When neither of them said anything, she said, “Hey, never mind. It’s not my business. Can you pay?”

“Yes,” Thor said. It was convincing, Loki had to give him that.

She held out a hand for the tablet and Thor handed it back to her. “Fifty percent up front and the other fifty once the work’s done.”

“Fifty?” Thor said. “That’s quite the down payment.”

With a smile—possibly flirtatious, but it was hard to tell with the long, sharp teeth that curved up over her lips—she said, “Normally it’s seventy. You get a break for being the nicest looking thing that’s washed in here this week.”

If Loki’s eyes could fall out the back of his head from rolling them, they definitely would have.

Thor grinned and asked, “Where do I sign?”

As he put his thumbprint in the spot she indicated on the tablet, she asked, looking towards Loki, “I need a name for the repair order. It’s your ship, you said? Got paperwork and everything?”

“Of course I do,” Loki said coldly.

“Good, because we get a lot of stolen ships here,” she said. “Gotta do my job and make sure this isn’t one of them.”

Giving her a look dripping with contempt, he said, “Do you _really_ think I’d steal _this_ ship if I was going to steal one? But if you really _must_ see them, wait here. I’ll get the papers.”

The engineer held up a hand. “Don’t bother. I believe you. What’s the name?”

“Loki,” he said. Then, after hesitating, he added, “Odinson.”

At this, her hand stuttered to a stop over the tablet. She looked up at him sharply, her eyes drifting from one of them to the other. “Odinson,” she repeated in a way that made it clear she knew exactly what that meant. And with it, who they were. Mentally, Loki dared her to say something, wondering if she was the type who had delighted in Asgard’s downfall or mourned it. Or the third type, who Loki perhaps despised most of all—the kind that shrugged and figured empires fell every day, so why note the passing of another one? As though Asgard was just another planet, just another passing blip in the galaxy.

But then she looked back down to her tablet, fingers swiping across it to enter the information. “I’ll have her ready for you in three days.”

“Thanks,” Loki said.

“Oh, thank _you_ , Your Highness,” she said. 

He gave her a hard half-smile and walked away, but not before seeing Thor wink at her. When Thor caught up with him, Loki muttered, “ _Honestly._ ”

“What?” Thor said, sounding deeply amused, which Loki wouldn’t mind, except it was hard to avoid the feeling that it was at his expense. “She said I was nice looking. Maybe she’ll give us a discount.”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki said, “Those teeth look a bit awkward.” Innocently, he added, “Anyway, what about Miss Foster?”

Thor just mumbled something that sounded like, “We’re taking a break and you know it,” but it may as well have been “piss off” for his tone.

Serene in the knowledge that he temporarily had the upper hand, Loki punched the button on the docking bay’s access panel, and the two of them walked into Lagoon Space Station.

Anyway, Loki wasn’t sure if ‘taking a break’ was really the best way to describe it. There had been one night, frigid and horrible, a bone-chilling cold that he’d associated more with Jotunheim than Manhattan, that Loki had sat waiting for Jane in her apartment. It had been impossible to miss the news: two Thors had had a battle that had torn up several square miles of cornfields—over what, no one could say. One of them surely had to be evil, but which one? More importantly, one of the Thors appeared to be a _woman_ , but she kept her identity masked under a winged helmet.

Jane had come in, dragging her feet and carrying a gym bag slung over her shoulder. His presence there didn’t seem to surprise her, though she still sighed and said, “I guess I should be happy you weren’t sitting there in the dark.”

“Well, my intent was to _not_ get hit in the face with Mjølnir,” Loki had said, reaching up and turning the three-way bulb in the lamp one setting higher.

Blood was running down her scalp and face and from her nose. She had a black eye. There was a massive bruise on one of her arms and she was limping. From the way she was moving, Loki suspected she had at least one broken rib.

She stared at him, then tossed the gym bag down at Loki’s feet. It hit the floor with a heavy clunk. He didn’t bother to toe it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move it. Her brown hair was short, only a couple inches, but growing. It had been months since she’d had chemotherapy, months since she’d gone into end-of-life hospice care. But her cancer had gone into sudden and mysterious remission. At least, her doctors thought it was mysterious. Loki was well aware that it had something to do with the contents of the gym bag on the floor.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Loki had said. “What would possess you to fight my brother?”

Jane had stared at him, then wordlessly turned and gone to the bathroom. Loki had risen from the chair he’d been occupying, following her and standing outside as she flicked the lights on and studied her face in the mirror. Her lip had been split, too, and she prodded at it, winced, and then pulled her shirt over her head. Loki had looked at the ground, but she was in a sports bra. He’d seen people, men and women, wearing far less out on Manhattan’s streets when it had still been warm.

“Your brother fought me,” she had said. “I was just defending myself. And trying not to hurt _him._ ”

Sourly, Loki had said, “I find it rather hard to believe he came off worse in your brawl.” He’d run a hand through his hair. “Jane, you’re not Asgardian. Whatever strength and powers that hammer gives you, at the end of the day, you’re human—”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to him, her arms crossed over her chest. “And it chose me—it saw something in me that it thought was worthy. I don’t know what it was but you’d better damn well believe that I’m going to try to live up to it.”

Her shoulders had sagged and she’d turned back to the mirror, staring at herself. She’d looked lost. “I don’t blame him for thinking I’m a threat,” she’d said. “I wish I could tell him I’m not.”

Leaning against the doorframe, Loki had said, “You can’t put a target like that on your back. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” A smile had ghosted across her face. “I’d still take getting beaten up by Thor to cancer.”

“Yes, well how about this—if you’re not careful, I’ll bring you to Strange,” he’d said.

She’d laughed. “Unlike you, I actually like Stephen.” Then, she’d smiled. “Or should I say, unlike you, I don’t _pretend_ not to like him.”

“Yes, very witty, well-observed; I’m sure I’m appropriately chastised.” He’d rolled his eyes. But he’d smiled and relaxed, comforted by the fact that she seemed to be fine.

On the other hand, when Thor had found out that the mysterious female Thor who had ‘stolen his hammer’ was none other than Jane Foster, his ex-girlfriend, he had…well, it wasn’t that he’d hadn’t taken it _well_. It was that he hadn’t seemed to want to take it any way at all. Whether he’d been mortified at suspecting her of evil motives, jealous of her ability to wield Mjølnir and to call on thunder as he suddenly and mysteriously no longer could, or simply unable to compute the fact that a human was now the Goddess of Thunder, he had more or less refused to deal with it. Loki had watched as Thor and Jane had awkwardly exchanged a few words after the Battle of New Asgard and then not spoken again.

It was, Loki had thought more than once, one of the reasons Thor had wanted to come with him when he’d left Earth.

Anyway. ‘Taking a break’ was perhaps the kindest way of putting it. If Thor wanted to flirt with one of the Lagoon’s engineers, Loki really couldn’t fault him.

There was a saying about the Lagoon: ‘If you can’t handle me at my best, I’ve got a bridge to sell you on the Lagoon.’ The space station had always toed the line between savory and unsavory, but it managed to stay just on the side of respectability because of its location: right at the edge of the nebula it was named for, in unincorporated space, and on the impulse route between a number of major systems. Everyone ended up stopping over at the Lagoon at some point. Its shipyards were some of the best for repairs, its supply lines were legendary. Engineers there could get any part you needed and they could get it fast. _How_ fast depended on what you could pay, but everyone was equal on the Lagoon, provided you could fork over the units. The social stratification was fluid, mutable, unfixed and changing by the hour. Fortunes had been made there—and lost.

Because it was famous for its repair shipyards, it was also famous for the entertainment options to keep people occupied. An entire ring of the station was devoted to hotels, one to casinos and various lesser gambling dens, and one to shopping. Loki was itching to get to the shopping ring. He really _did_ need new boots. He was in the market for some new clothes in general. His armor was looking a little battered. He’d been hoping to find someone who could patch it up on Contraxia, but he’d had no luck. The Lagoon would probably have an armorer for every price point.

The docking bay was located off the station’s central hub, which was full of bars, restaurants, and tourism bureaus. The full tapestry of sentient—and probably not-so-sentient—life was on display, as aliens of various races jostled each other and conversed, shouting and laughing and swearing, carrying takeaway food in cartons and glasses full of alcohol.

“Do you really have papers for the ship?” Thor asked as they navigated the crowd. The Lagoon didn’t keep to Galactic Standard Time, but then, neither did they. It was definitely dinner time there, if the crowds spilling out from the restaurants were any indication.

Loki raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Of course I do.” Then, his smile widening, he added, “And if I’d needed them to say my name, they would have.”

Thor laughed. “You never change, do you?”

“Well, I’d like to think a _little_.” Glancing at Thor, he said, “ _The Statesman_ was the Grandmaster’s ship. All the shuttles on board belonged to him too. Unsurprisingly, dear Brunnhilde did _not_ transfer ownership of any of them once she arrived on Earth.”

“Hard to transfer ownership from a dead man,” Thor remarked.

Furrowing his brow, Loki said, “Oh, I very much doubt the Grandmaster’s dead. But yes, point taken. There were obstacles to a legal transfer.” He shrugged. “That’s what illusions are for.”

With a grunt, Thor hefted their pack over his shoulder. It was heavy, since Loki had stuffed a small library into it. Could he have put them in his pocket dimension? Yes. Was it vastly more entertaining to make Thor lug them around? Also yes. Three days was a long time; he needed something to keep himself amused. And since he’d had little leisure time aboard _The Bifrost_ of late, he was looking forward to taking a look at some of the books he’d accumulated over the past three months.

“You really think that lunatic’s floating around the galaxy somewhere?” Thor asked.

“Thor, the man was millions of years old. Of _course_ he’s floating around the galaxy somewhere. I believe he’s what some people refer to as a ‘survivor.’”

“You have a point.” Thor looked around. “Where are we staying?”

Jerking his head, Loki said, “This way.” Neither of them had ever visited the Lagoon when they were young men, let alone children. Loki had asked once if they could go, been told absolutely not, and then made plans to stow away on the next ship that was headed there from Asgard. It had seemed like the most exciting place within a thousand light years, a place where _everyone_ , not just people from the Nine Realms, visited; where you could find anything and everything you wanted.

Whether or not he could have actually pulled off his plan was debatable, but what had put the nail in the coffin was the fact that he’d told Thor he could come along if he wanted. And Thor had promptly blabbed to his friends, resulting in the whole thing being overheard by several Einherjar, three of their mother’s ladies-in-waiting, and, of course, Heimdall.

Still, years later, he’d gotten his wish to visit in a roundabout way. After Loki had let himself fall through the wormhole beneath the Bifrost, after spending a year surviving on his wits, sorcery, and skill with his daggers, after Thanos had—well, after Thanos, he’d been sent to the Lagoon. “To see what you can do,” the Other had said. To see if he was stable enough to carry out their plans, more like. Or rather, not _unstable_ enough. His memories of that time were patchy—he had a feeling he’d taken control of several residents and directed them to carry out some kind of petty crime—but at least he remembered the way to the station’s lodging ring.

It still had the power to send aftershocks of remembered pain through his body, his neurons and nerves holding the echo of those weeks that the Other had worked to break him. Sometimes, he thought it might be good for him to talk about it with someone. Then again, that could be said for many things. He hadn’t talked yet.

The room they’d secured wasn’t fancy or even what one might deem ‘nice,’ but it _was_ cheap. Considering the amount of money that Thor had just put his thumbprint to, that was what mattered. Loki didn’t really want to ask where the money was coming from. Who knew, maybe Thor had made some sound business investments while he’d been on Earth. Then again, with the state that Earth’s economy would have been in after the Snap, let alone the state that Thor had been in, that seemed unlikely. He wasn’t opposed to cutting and running with an unpaid bill—it might make returning to the Lagoon at a later date a somewhat tenuous proposition, but he had faith in his own abilities to figure that out—but he needed to come up with a plan if that _was_ the plan.

As Thor scanned his remaining retina at the door to their room, Loki crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Is that real money you transferred over to What’s-Her-Name?”

“Ithik,” Thor said. When Loki gave him a blank look, Thor added, “Her _name_.” The door slid open and he shifted the pack. “And yes, of course it was. We’re not going to cheat anyone.” He gave Loki a meaningful look. “Right?”

“If you really have the money, there’s no need to cheat anyone,” Loki replied, his tone just as meaningful.

“I have money,” Thor said, sounding defensive.

“Since when?”

Thor just mumbled something unintelligible and went into the room.

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki said, following him. “Since _when?_ ”

The room was small, with one window, a door leading to a bathroom, and two narrow beds placed lengthwise against the walls. Tossing the pack onto one of the beds, Thor replied, “There’s a royal account. My, uh, my name’s still on it. I didn’t remind anyone to take it off before we left Earth.”

Several possible responses flitted through Loki’s mind, including that he was impressed by Thor’s stealing by omission. Then again, apparently no one had cared that the royal account had previously been used mainly for junk food, beer, and video games. In some ways, this was a worthier use of the money. “Why am I not on this account?” he finally asked.

“Because you were dead,” Thor said flatly. “Or I thought you were.”

There was something in Thor’s tone that Loki had detected before. Was it resentment? What, exactly, did his brother have to be resentful about? Loki would have stayed dead, after all, had Thor and his Avenger friends not gone back to mess with the timeline. If they hadn’t mucked it up by letting his past self escape with the Tesseract, creating a separate timeline in the process, that other Loki wouldn’t have stepped in to repair the mess that had been made, and then Thor could have kept wallowing in his grief, living off pork rinds and fried chicken, flying around with that crew of losers, the Guardians of the Galaxy. Was he mad at Loki for dying? Or mad at him for not staying dead?

He looked out the tiny window, chewing at the inside of his cheek. They had a view of the underside of one of the other rings. “What are the chances of you transferring some units to me from that account?”

“Zero,” Thor said. “Buy your own boots.”

“You know, I’m still a Prince of Asgard, even if _you_ decided you don’t want to be king,” Loki said.

“Yes, but no one trusts you.” Thor sat down on one of the beds. “And they don’t like you much, either.”

This wasn’t fair, even if he deserved it. But it was unlike Thor to lash out, even when Loki had it coming—which was why he bristled and sneered, “Oh, I don’t know, Miss Foster is quite fond of me.”

“Shut up,” Thor said. Then, he sighed, dug around in his armor, and tossed Loki an authorization disc.

Loki flashed him a crooked smile, rancor forgotten, and pocketed it. “Thank you, brother.”

“Just don’t spend so much that anyone notices I still have access to it,” Thor said as Loki headed out the door.

With a snort, Loki said, “And _I’m_ the one they don’t trust?”

* * *

Loki blew on his fingers as he stood in the crowded Section N3, watching passersby and eating a bean paste bun. Their eyes slid over him as though he was part of the architecture—not quite an illusion, but useful when one preferred not to be noticed. His new boots had been sent back to their room, and the supplies, enough food and other assorted necessities to last them several months, had gone to the ship. Later, he’d go down there and load them. It would be an opportunity to check up on Ithik, too, who was _probably_ trustworthy, but why take chances?

While he’d wandered the station, he’d asked around about other Asgardians passing through. Like some sort of fairytale—thrice, he’d asked the question, and thrice, the reply had been in the negative. “Why do you ask?” said the man who’d sold him the bean paste bun.

For fun, he’d decided to tell the truth. “Because I’m Asgardian,” Loki had replied. 

“Didn’t Asgard get blown up or something?” the man asked.

“We call it Ragnarok,” Loki said. “You know, cataclysmic destruction of the universe and everything in it and whatnot.”

As he took the bun off the griddle and stuffed it into a bag, the man said, “We’re still here. Looks like it wasn’t the whole universe.”

With a thin smile, Loki said, “If you were Asgardian, it would feel like the whole universe.”

“Uh huh.” Leaning on the counter, the man said, “So where’d all the survivors go?”

Shrugging, Loki said, “One of the Nine Realms. A backwater.” He’d raised an eyebrow, and because he’d already told the truth, he decided to balance it out with a lie. “I’m looking for other Asgardians who don’t want to live there. Just curious if there are any still out here, or if they all found their way to our new ‘home.’”

The man shook his head. “Sorry. I haven’t heard about any passing through. But you know, keep asking around. This place has been busy since everyone got Unblipped, no way for everyone to hear about all the refugees floating through.”

“I can imagine.”

“You get Blipped?” the man asked conversationally.

Loki smiled mirthlessly. In a technical sense, of course, the answer was no. In practice, he may as well have been. “Yes,” he said. “You?”

“Nope. This place was like a ghost town during those years,” the man said. “You ever heard of the place where they Unblipped everyone? Aarth, or something like that?”

Rolling the paper bag closed to keep the bun warm, Loki replied, “One of the Nine Realms, actually. We call it Midgard.”

The man chuckled at Loki’s expression of delicate distaste. “Let me guess, another backwater?”

“Well.” All he could do was shrug and smile a bit helplessly in obvious acknowledgment of this point.

“I guess when you’re from Asgard, a lot of places seem like a backwater,” the man said.

With a chuckle, Loki said, “Well spoken, my friend.”

“But not here, of course.”

“Oh, obviously not.”

As he threw another batch of buns on the griddle, the man said, “Well, I hope you find some of your people. You planning on sticking around for awhile? I don’t mind keeping my ears open.”

“Just a few days,” Loki had said. “Though I’m sure we’ll be back through. Thank you—I’ll stop by next time I’m on the station.”

So now he was just standing, watching, and thinking. Thor had been right about them coming here. _The Bifrost_ was in bad shape. In truth, they were lucky they hadn’t suffered a catastrophic hull breach and blown their atmosphere right into space. But he didn’t believe they were going to find anything to help them here. It would be nearly impossible to identify another Asgardian, anyway. How many times had he seen Scrapper 142 on Sakaar and not realized she was one? It wasn’t as though there was anything special about the way they looked. What made them special was their blood, that Aesir divinity, or maybe just divinity-adjacent, that flowed through their veins. Which Loki himself didn’t have, of course.

Ah, well. An old wound. There was no point in trying to heal it now. Asgard was gone. His place there no longer mattered.

He finished the bean paste bun and stuck his finger in his mouth to get the last bit of grease. His brain was still coming up empty on the Rebuilding the Bifrost front, and as someone who was always at least one step ahead of everyone else, he _really_ didn’t like that. Of course, this was less of a scheme and more of a delusion. What had he been thinking when he’d come up with this?

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. What he’d been thinking was born from years of living in a golden lie, an idealized version of reality that he’d wanted desperately to believe in, even while knowing, always, that there was something wrong. For most of his life, he’d believed it was him. He still did, most days.

But most days wasn’t _all_ days. And there was something to be said for the kind of noble heroism that Thor had always pulled off so effortlessly. It was, after all, what Loki had aspired to, before he’d found out what he actually was. Maybe that was all this was—another attempt to be worthy. Rebuild the Bifrost, be Asgard’s savior.

He crumpled the paper bag in his hand and looked down, running his thumbnail along his other fingernails. Had he not taken the Tesseract from Asgard, Thanos wouldn’t have slaughtered hundreds of Asgardians—refugees already decimated by his sister’s reign. Thor had once blamed him for Hela, too, though he doubted that his brother still did. No matter, because Loki was perfectly willing to take it on. The sacrifice that had redeemed him, his death on _The Statesman_ , his last ditch effort to save Thor, save _something_ , had been taken from him. He needed to do something. He needed to _be_ something.

Hm. Enough introspection. After all, he had a delusion to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	6. Chapter 6

There were a lot of things Loki wished he could tell his younger self. _You’re so much more of an outsider than you think. Don’t waste your time trying to prove to Odin you’re fit for the throne._ _It’s not Thor’s fault, no matter how easy a scapegoat he is. Accept who you are, and save yourself a lifetime of trying to be someone else._ Maybe if someone had told him any one of those things eight hundred years ago, he’d be in a better place now. Mentally and emotionally, of course, but also quite literally, as perhaps he wouldn’t be stuck in a grimy room on Lagoon Space Station.

He wished he could tell his younger self that, too. _The Lagoon isn’t as exciting as you think it is, and it’s_ definitely _not worth talking back to Father about and having to muck out stables for a week as punishment._

After two days, he was bored with the Lagoon. One could only wander for so long, especially when finances were less than plentiful. They couldn’t even justify spending the money to get drunk. The cheap bars served watered down alcohol and the bars that _didn’t_ water down the drinks were overpriced.

On Day 3 of the repairs to _The Bifrost_ , they were informed that it would _not_ be the last day, as the damage to the hull was worse than Ithik had initially thought. Thank heavens he’d brought books.

With a yawn, he stretched his arms over his head, craning his neck and hanging it over the headboard of his bed. Thor was standing at the window and Loki stared at him upside down. “Do you want something to read?” he asked.

Thor glanced at him. “Do you have the last _Hunger Games_ book?”

Loki stayed where he was. It felt good to stretch his spine. “No.” Did he need to say that he preferred not to know what that was?

“Too bad,” Thor said. His tone was wistful. “I haven’t read that one yet.”

Straightening up, Loki held out the dusty tome he was working his way through and said, “There’s always _The Travel Chronicles of Rhoman Saastar, a Xandarian Exiled._ ” When Thor made no move to take the book, Loki retracted his arm and laid it on his chest, open to the page he’d been reading. “His prose is a bit long-winded, but he’s got quite the story.”

“Oh?”

“He spent long enough on Asgard to learn the language.” Musingly, Loki said, “You know, he never says what he did to get exiled from Xandar…” Propping the book up again, he said, “There’s something instructive about seeing your home through the eyes of an outsider.” He didn’t realize what he was saying until the words had left his mouth. An outsider? _He_ had been the outsider.

But Thor didn’t seem to pick up on this. Sadness flickered over his face as he said, “Asgard was an…impressive place.”

Loki smiled slightly so his own pain wouldn’t show. “Indeed.”

Truthfully, he was sort of skimming Rhoman’s travel log. It was a lot of ‘and this majestic building this, that majestic building that, the women are fair giantesses, the men even more so.’ This was one of the books he’d bought on Contraxia, and he could see why it had ended up there. Still, they had another day to kill, and a book was a book.

He settled back against the headboard again, flipping to the next chapter. There was an illustration of the Observatory and the Rainbow Bridge on one side, and on the other, in scrawling runes, was written THE BIFRÖST. His hand paused over the page before he turned to the next one, but he stopped himself from fully forming the thought that wanted to take shape. Loki lived by the credo, ‘hope for the best, expect the worst.’ Only he didn’t usually hope for the best, either, because hope only led to disappointment. Anyway, it was deeply unlikely that he was going to find something useful about the Bifrost in a book that was older than he was—and not to mention, written about as well as the sub-par fiction he’d read to keep himself entertained while he’d been stuck on Earth in the Sanctum. Strange had spent months trying to convince him to read something called _Lord of the Rings_ ; by the end, Loki was simply resisting out of spite.

Honestly, sometimes it was a toss-up as to which was worse: dying at the hands of Thanos, or being ripped out of time by a version of yourself from an alternate timeline, who then tasked you with cleaning up the mess he’d made of his universe. Not being dead was nice, he had to admit. Destroying an entire universe, killing trillions and trillions of people, was less so. Nine months at the Sanctum, where it was ‘better for the universe’ for Loki to remain, hadn’t been anything to write home about, either. Not that he had a home to write to.

To be honest, now that they were together again, Loki was having a hard time seeing how he and Thor were doing anything to improve the universe.

As he began reading Rhoman’s account of the Bifrost, he was glad he hadn’t allowed any hopes to form. It was all exactly what an outsider would say about the Bifrost. Rainbows, the Guardian standing solemn guard at his lonely post, a form of travel that was more magic than science, powered and nurtured by the tree in the palace. Sentimental drivel that—

Wait.

“Thor,” Loki said slowly. “Come here.” But before Thor could move, Loki had already gotten to his feet and crossed the room, where he held the book out to Thor. “Look. Look at this.”

Thor raised his eyebrows and took the book. His eyes scanned the page and then stopped. Looking up at Loki, he said, “The tree.” Loki pressed his lips together and nodded. Turning his eyes back to the page, Thor read, “ _The Bifröst is a most awe-inspiring form of travel, seeming more magic than science—like much of the wonders I have encountered here amongst the Aesir. All of Asgard can use this bridge to other worlds, which brings the traveler to his destination instantly._ ”

Thor made a face. “Well, not exactly, but it’s poetic license, I suppose.” Clearing his throat, he read on, “ _Though few understand its inner workings, I cultivated a friendship most tender with the Guardian of the Bifröst, standing solemn guard at his lonely post in The Observatory, who described its function to me thusly._ ”

Pausing and scanning ahead, Thor said, “We know this part, the sword opens the Bifrost, the Guardian is all seeing, and so on…ah, here we go:

_In the palace grows a tree, half real and half illusion. Its branches are bare but nonetheless glow with golden light as they reach towards the massive ceiling, and its gnarled roots deform the floor around it. I wondered at this tree’s presence, for the Aesir did not seem otherwise to cultivate anything of its nature. I thought to question the Guardian about it. He informed me that this was the most important tree in all the Nine Realms, for this was Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and it powered and nurtured the Bifröst._ ”

The two of them were silent. Loki nodded towards the book. “Keep reading.”

Clearing his throat and shifting his hold on the spine, Thor went on, “ _The roots of this great tree wend deep within Asgard’s mantle, tapping into the cosmic noise that flows through the universe, the remnants of the beginning of everything mingling with the magic in the Aesir bloodlines._ ”

Thor looked up and the two of them met each other’s eyes. Though Loki had already read it once, hearing Thor say the words out loud left him feeling shaken to his core.

“All the power I felt in that tree,” Loki murmured. “But I had no idea…” His brow furrowed. “ _You_ were going to be crowned king. Did our father ever tell you this?”

“I thought it just a tree,” Thor said. “Something to show off Asgard’s power and—well, sorcery, I suppose. A metaphor. A pretty piece of technology to impress visitors with.”

Running a finger along his lower lip, Loki said, “And all that time, it _was_ the World Tree. Or at least, some kind of manifestation of it.” He snorted. “More lies. Odin’s penchant for secrets reaches beyond the grave. Impressive, though I don’t know why I’d expect anything else.”

He waited for Thor to defend their father, but he didn’t. Was that progress?

As he closed the book, Thor said, “I suppose he thought he would wake from the Odinsleep and there would be no need to have told me.” Shaking his head, he added, “In hindsight, not one of his best decisions.”

“A statement which can apply to _many_ choices our father made,” Loki said.

Thor met Loki’s eyes again, not denying this. “So. You think what this book says is worth paying any heed to?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Loki said, “As it’s currently the only thing we have to go on, I’d say so, yes.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Thor tossed the book onto his bed, sending up a cloud of dust, and said, “It’s _not_ anything to go on. If that tree _was_ the World Tree, then the Bifrost is well and truly gone. It was vaporized in Ragnarok.”

His brow furrowed in thought, Loki said, “Not necessarily. Something may have survived. Fragments. It should be easy enough to scan for.”

“So we’re going to go trawling through the whole system for pieces of tree now? Loki, there were a lot of trees on Asgard. The chances of finding a bit of the right one, if we find anything at all, are practically nothing.” Thor ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “But I said we’d go back.”

Inclining his head, Loki said, “You did. And look, if we don’t find anything, I swear I’ll never bring it up again. We can go back to gallivanting around the galaxy looking for poor lost souls to save, and you’ll never hear a single complaint out of me.”

With a snort, Thor said, “You’re lying.”

Loki smiled crookedly. “Of course I am.”

Thor shook his head, then chuckled. “Alright. As soon as the ship’s fixed, we’ll go back. Are you going to tell me yet why this is so important to you?”

Meeting Thor’s eyes, a half-smile still on his face, Loki said, “Oh, I’m just bored.”

Thor slapped him on the back. “Fine. Be that way. Are you hungry, by the way? I’m starving, we should get dinner.”

There was _such_ an easy joke to be made here that it wasn’t even worth it. Anyway, cheap shots at Thor’s weight were beneath him, especially as he didn’t care how many extra pounds Thor carried. It was what the weight had signified that had bothered him.

Never mind. It wasn’t helping anything to think more on Thor’s grief. Right now, the idea of going out for a proper meal with his brother was actually quite…nice.

He had to take a moment to consider that. Yes. That was the word. Nice.

Thirty minutes later, after they’d ended up at the first place whose proprietor leapt out in front of their faces extolling the virtues of the menu, Loki was slightly less convinced of this fact. Thor was such a _tourist_ , but it didn’t seem to occur to him that they could keep walking and find a restaurant where the staff didn’t have to manhandle potential diners into the chairs _._ The food was mediocre but Thor was enjoying it, so that was something, he supposed. After Loki had eaten his fill, he pushed the remnants of his dinner across the table for his brother to finish and sat there, his elbows on the table, watching the other patrons in the restaurant.

“How do you think things are going on Earth?” Thor asked. When silence met his question, he added, “With Brunnhilde, Sif, Korg, and Meik, I mean.”

No, _really?_ Loki had thought he meant what was happening in Omaha, Nebraska. Slurping up another noodle, Thor added, “And…er, Jane.”

“Engaged in some sort of cataclysmic battle between the forces of good and evil, I’m sure,” Loki replied lazily. “Earth _does_ seem to be ground zero for those types of things.”

Thor looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should go back.”

Giving him an exasperated look, Loki said, “Or you could call on the subspace channel and ask if they want us back. Avengers HQ will _always_ answer the phone for you, right? But I can tell you what the answer will be. ‘Yes, of course, come back, Thor! We’ve missed you! We were getting worried that Loki had betrayed and killed you.’ They won’t want me back, by the way.”

“No one thinks you’re going to kill me,” Thor said.

Loki smiled without any warmth. “I disagree.”

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Thor said, “Of course you’d be welcomed in New Asgard. You saw how happy people were to see you.”

“Were they?” Loki asked, as he couldn’t recall seeing anything of the sort during the time he’d spent there. Thor seemed to have forgotten that he’d tetchily informed Loki only days ago that no one on Earth liked him.

Thor looked even more exasperated. “Yes! For most of those people, _you_ were the one that saved them. First on Asgard, then by making sure they were evacuated from _The Statesman._ And Brunnhilde has nothing against you. She likes you.”

“Brother, the trick to telling a good lie is to mix enough truth in for it to seem plausible,” Loki said.

“Do you ever get tired of feeling sorry for yourself?”

“No. Someone has to do it.”

Thor’s eye roll was starting to really resemble Loki’s, as far as breadth and circumference went. “They’re your people. They’d love to have you back.”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “They told you this, did they?”

Thor’s face clouded and he seemed to physically draw back from the conversation. Loki knew he’d misstepped. Bickering was fine. Harmless. It was the only way either of them was really capable of showing affection at the moment. But he’d overstepped a line that he knew better than to cross.

“No,” Thor said shortly. “No one talked to me about you.”

No one had talked to Thor about anything while he’d ‘reigned’ in New Asgard, from what Loki understood. But yes, he knew full well that the subject of himself had been a conversational no-go zone. The Valkyrie herself had told him that she hadn’t heard Thor say his name in the years since New Asgard had been established, that he never talked about his family, never talked about old friends. He’d poured his energies into convincing himself and everyone else that he lived only in the present, when the reality was that he lived completely in the past.

And he’d heard Thor himself say that no one had mentioned Loki’s name for years, though Thor didn’t know that. Thor had come to the Sanctum upon returning to Earth, wanting to talk to Strange, and Loki had overheard their entire conversation. Thor had never brought the incident up. To be honest, Loki wondered if he’d made the connection that they’d been under one roof, even if it hadn’t been for long.

“Never mind,” Loki said. It wasn’t an apology, but then again, he didn’t exactly do apologies. Svartalfheim had been sincere. That was going to have to be good enough for the previous millennium and the next. “Earth will be fine without us. Brunnhilde and Sif have probably managed to color coordinate everything in the royal fishing shack by now, too. I think they make fishnets in blue? Nice color for curtains.”

Thor slurped up one more mouthful of noodles and shook his head, though he seemed to be trying not to smile. “Brother, your sense of humor is unkind.”

Loki shrugged but didn’t deny it. Anyway, unkind or not, he’d been trying to distract Thor, and it had worked.

Something buzzed at his side and he dug in his pocket for the comm disc Ithik had given him. “Looks like the ship’s repaired,” he said, reading the message scrolling around it. So she’d finished more or less on time, after all. Something was going right—it made for a nice change.

As he pocketed it, Thor stood up and said. “Good. Let’s get our things and go.”

It only took fifteen minutes to pack their belongings. Within another ten they were approaching the docking bay that held _The Bifrost_. When they entered the access code and walked inside, Ithik’s crew was milling around. The white-hot glow of an arc welder lit one wall and someone was going over the seams of the hull plating on the ship’s bow, but most of them were packing up tools. It was hard to tell if they were done for the day or had actually completed the repairs, and Thor started to approach one of the harried looking crew when Ithik’s voice said from behind them, “So. The ship’s yours, huh? You have the papers to prove it, do you?”

Both of them turned around to face her. She was staring at them coldly.

“Yes,” Loki said. It was worth a try. “Like I told you the other day, I can show them to you.”

“And I guess I should have taken you up on the offer,” she said, her tone chilly. She wasn’t making any effort at meeting him halfway towards pleasantness. “It would have been pretty interesting to see what you came up with. Do you actually have forged documents or was it a bluff?”

Loki stared at her, hoping it would make her uncomfortable. It didn’t seem to. “I think you should explain what the problem is, since there clearly _is_ one,” he said.

Finally, she smiled, though it wasn’t nice. Odin’s beard, those canines were sharp. “The fact that a couple Asgardians had a Preccat light cruiser should have tipped me off that something was up. Times must be even harder on Asgard than I’ve heard if the royal family is stealing ships.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, and Loki, his eyes widening, said, “ _What?_ I beg your pardon, but this ship is _not_ stolen, and the fact that you would accuse us—”

“The actual owner showed up,” she interrupted him. “So you can save it.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “Someone’s here claiming that they own _my_ ship, and you just trust them? Ithik, let me get the papers, this is obviously a misunderstanding.”

“Just stop,” she said. “I was born and raised here. You think I can’t tell a liar when I meet one?” Thor coughed, which sounded suspiciously like an attempt to cover a laugh. Ithik’s eyes flicked to him and she said, “I’ll take the other half of my payment now, though.”

Thor coughed for real then, choking on his own stupid laughter. Served him right. “But it’s not our ship,” he protested. Loki glared at him. “I mean, I didn’t _realize_ it wasn’t our ship,” Thor amended. He shook his head at Loki disapprovingly. Loki gave him a withering look.

Ithik shrugged. “I still did the work. Pay up, boys. Price went up, though. There’s an extra fee for me not turning you into the authorities.”

Loki and Thor glanced at each other. Loki smiled again. Charmingly, of course. Always charmingly. “Ithik,” he said, reaching a hand out to put it on her upper arm. She gave him a look that could have skewered him. Abruptly, he halted the gesture, bringing his arm back and smoothing his hand over his hair as though that’s what he’d meant to do the whole time. “Look,” he tried, “why don’t you at least tell us who’s saying it’s their ship.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. Craning her neck to peer around them, she yelled, “Hey, finish up!” From the direction of the arc welding, an inarticulate shout came back. Ithik looked back to Thor and Loki and waved her hand. “Out you go. This isn’t your ship, you have no reason to be in here. Access codes should really be changed on this docking bay, too.” When Loki narrowed his eyes at her, she pointed at him and said, “There’s some honesty.” Then, she turned around and said over her shoulder, “Payment’s due tomorrow. Now get out.”

She keyed in the access code to the door and motioned to them. They had no choice but to leave, Loki’s face set into a hard frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	7. Chapter 7

As the door hissed shut behind them and Ithik walked down the corridor in the opposite direction, Loki and Thor stopped and looked at each other. Thor crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head, looking into the distance. “Stormbreaker’s still on the ship.”

“ _Everything_ we own is still on that ship,” Loki said.

“So what do we do?” Thor asked, lowering his voice and shifting the pack on his shoulder.

Loki made a face. “Well, get my ship back, for starters.”

“We could steal it,” Thor suggested.

Loki snorted. “And get into a firefight with the actual owners? New Asgard’s just poured a lot of money into this ship, brother. I think they’d hate for it to get shot up again so soon.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “Anyway, I’m surprised to hear you suggest such a thing.”

“That ship’s been sitting on Earth for six years. We need it more than whoever owns it.”

With a sigh, Loki said, “‘Whoever owns it?’ You really never paid attention in any of our lessons, did you?” When Thor gave him a questioning look, he said, “Preccat. Ithik said it was a Preccat ship. You remember learning about Preccat?”

“I obviously don’t, so why don’t you just tell me,” Thor said, an irritated growl to his voice. It could have been meant for the situation or it could have been meant for Loki specifically. Or both, which was probably the likeliest scenario.

“The government owns everything on Preccat,” Loki said. “And the government is run by the military. Ringing any bells?”

When Ithik had mentioned Preccat, it had taken a second for it to ring any bells for Loki, too. But now that he remembered what he knew about it, he wasn’t worried about talking his way out of the ‘theft.’ Thor was right. It had been sitting on Earth for six years and Norns knew how long on Sakaar before that. No doubt it was highly outdated and more trouble than it was worth to repossess. Money would need to be exchanged, of course. But this was simply a minor inconvenience.

Shrugging, Thor said, “Look, there was no point in paying attention in our lessons when I knew I could just ask you the answer when I needed to know it later.” Loki rolled his eyes. “But Preccat—I’ve never heard anyone talk about it.”

“No, it’s a backwater.” Loki narrowed his eyes at the docking bay door. “I should’ve known that piece of junk was Preccat-made.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he said slowly, “If the ‘real’ owner is here with the right documentation, it’s probably some bureaucratic toady.” He glanced at Thor, making a decision. “Let’s find them. I’m sure I can convince them this is just a misunderstanding.”

Thor put his hands on his hips and stared down the hallway, his jaw working. “You did convince me that one time that I was actually the God of Snakes.”

Smiling fondly at the memory, Loki said, “That’s right.” An early outing, but a classic. “Weren’t you in tears eventually because you couldn’t summon them out of your hands?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I definitely do.”

With a hard exhalation, Thor ran a hand over his hair and said, “Are you sure you don’t just want to steal it?”

“Let’s give my way a try first.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “If that doesn’t work, we can start punching people.” He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, though. Mostly because it would be admitting defeat and doing things Thor’s way, and that was an irritating thought. Sighing huffily, he started down the corridor, Thor on his heels.

* * *

Loki had a plan by the time they got back to the closest ring. He may have wanted to avoid stealing the ship (for now) but he had absolutely no problem backdooring his way into the Lagoon’s docking logs. Preccat ships weren’t common—the Preccat tended to keep to themselves. Loki had never met anyone from there, so he bet on only finding one Preccat ship in the logs. He was right.

He sent a communication pretending to be a weapons dealer, and soon they had an appointment set up to meet with the supposed owner, a Vice Admiral Shuvt. “Let me do the talking,” Loki said, spinning around to walk backwards and face Thor as they headed to the cargo bay where this meeting was scheduled to take place.

“You always say that,” Thor said, “but it never seems to work out all that well.”

Loki scowled at him.

They arrived at the cargo bay and stopped in front of the doors. “You have the code to get in, right?” Thor asked.

Nodding, Loki stepped up to the keypad and punched in the code. He’d had to knock out a maintenance worker and take his appearance to get it, following a ‘coworker’ into a restricted area so he could feign forgetfulness about which digit went where in the Section V cargo bay’s access code.

“Again?” the woman who he’d followed in said, rolling her eyes. Loki mentally congratulated himself for his dumb luck in choosing to take the form of someone forgetful. She’d given him the code and muttered that maybe he should get it tattooed on his forehead if he was going to keep forgetting it.

The cargo bay door hissed open. Loki and Thor walked in, both of them on their guards. Crates filled the bay, stacked to the ceiling, which would lend credence to the fiction that they were arms dealers. He’d just say they were full of anti-matter grenades if asked. Hopefully Vice Admiral Shuvt wouldn’t be familiar with what anti-matter grenades actually shipped in. Heavens knew Loki wasn’t.

The bay was empty, but when Loki looked at Thor, his brother’s shoulders stayed tensed. They were early, but one never knew if the other party _also_ felt it was strategically advantageous to be early. Silently, Loki scouted out the room, making sure no one was creeping around in the aisles between the crates, while Thor waited for Shuvt and his inevitable entourage.

When Loki had said they needed to come up with aliases in advance, Thor had thought about it and said, “You can be Fandral, I’ll be Hogun.” Thor had almost kept the flash of sadness out of his eyes as he’d said it. Almost. Personally, Loki didn’t really relish taking the name of that useless pretty boy, but at least Fandral had been decent to him more often than not.

Loki rejoined Thor, who said, “Anyone here?”

“No,” Loki said. The knives strapped to his forearms were a reassuring weight, just in case things _did_ take a turn for the violent.

Just then, there was the sound of voices outside the door. The two of them turned to face it as it slid open, revealing a group of humanoid people dressed in black uniforms. There were quite a few of them for a meeting with a couple arms dealers. All men, Loki noted. He’d thought the Preccat had green skin, but he must have misremembered, because they were mostly pale. All of their faces were scarred with patterns—dots and whorls, one or two spirals. The man with the most extensive scarring was at the head of the group. The scars denoted rank, if he remembered those long ago lessons, which would make this Vice Admiral Shuvt.

“Gentlemen,” Loki said, spreading his arms and smiling charmingly. “So good of you to come.”

The cargo bay doors slid shut behind the group of Preccat. None of them smiled back. Loki couldn’t remember if they didn’t smile or if this was just a bad sign. Guns were strapped to their sides, despite the Lagoon’s ban on openly carrying them, and each one of them also had a long blade. The guns were giving off a faint purple glow from their power cells, which meant they shot some sort of energy instead of projectiles. Might have been the sort of thing an Asgardian and a Frost Giant could brush off. Or maybe it wasn’t.

The lead man took several steps forward and stopped in front of Loki and Thor, staring at them. Then, his face broke into a wide smile and he laughed. Loki and Thor followed his lead and did as well. What were they laughing at? It didn’t matter. This man currently controlled their access to their ship. Loki would force a fake chuckle all day long if it meant remedying that. Holding out a hand, he said, “Of course! A message from Asgardian dealers? How could I do anything else? Vice Admiral Shuvt. And you are?”

“Fandral,” Loki said. He gestured to Thor and added, “This is my associate, Hogun.”

“Well met, well met,” Shuvt said. “Tell me, was it Skurge who gave you my name?”

_Skurge?_ Loki resisted the urge to scowl. He never should have made that man Guardian of the Bifrost; it was bad enough how many times he’d gone down to Earth to collect Midgardian garbage. Apparently he’d been fencing the junk to a Preccat vice admiral? Or, a far worse possibility, he’d been fencing _Asgardian_ weapons to a Preccat vice admiral. The idea made him uneasy. He hadn’t paid enough attention to what was going on when he’d ruled Asgard, and there was no one left alive who could tell him. The Einherjar hadn’t even had a chance to be wiped out by Thanos. Hela had done it for him.

“Absolutely,” Loki said. “Unfortunately, Skurge had an… _accident_.” The delicate emphasis he put on this word would leave no doubt in Shuvt’s mind as to the nature of this accident. “I’m checking in with all his clients.”

Shuvt nodded. “Too bad. I liked Skurge. Reminded me of myself—salt of the earth, raised himself up by his bootstraps.”

It was all Loki could do to not roll his eyes. Shuvt had probably been born to a long line of vice admirals, the kind of family whose idea of making one’s own way in the world was managing to pass a class at the military academy without paying off the teachers. And while yes, Skurge certainly was a self-made man, Loki was currently deeply irritated by the fact that he’d been pulling one over on him for four years, and he was probably living it up in Valhalla right now for his glorious death. He wasn’t much inclined to shower compliments on his onetime Guardian. Better to take credit for his death. At the moment, he rather wished that it wasn’t a lie.

“Well, these things happen,” Loki said, still smiling, hoping there was just enough of a murderous tinge in his eyes to tell these men exactly what kind of person he was.

“Indeed they do,” Shuvt said. “Indeed they do.” With a smile that made the scars around his lips pull, he went on, “Now. You wanted to speak about perhaps establishing a business relationship.”

Loki angled his head to give Shuvt a sidelong smile. “Well, I thought it’s something we might explore. We have weapons, you have people you want to use them on. That seems like a solid foundation for a partnership.”

Motioning to his men to move into the room, Shuvt said, “Who rules Asgard now? Is old Odin still in charge, or is it one of the sons?”

With a wave, Loki said, “Who can keep track. One of the sons, appointees— _that_ royal house can’t keep itself in order.” Thor made a noise at his side, quiet enough so that only Loki heard it.

Shuvt laughed, which was what Loki had been going for. “Skurge said the old man seemed like he was losing it.”

Thor made another noise. No doubt Loki would be hearing about _that_ one later. Smile still plastered on his face, Loki said, “Yes, well. Perhaps.”

The Preccat had surrounded them, loosely enough that it wasn’t a threat. Yet. “And Asgard suffered some sort of disaster, yes?” Shuvt asked. “Is it true the planet was destroyed?”

Loki hesitated, but this was an easy piece of information to confirm. Lying about it probably wouldn’t do them any favors. “That’s right,” he said. “Everyone had to evacuate.”

Sympathy—the deeply false kind of bureaucrats everywhere—pulled almost comically at Shuvt’s face. “A terrible thing,” he said. “Thank goodness the two of you were able to escape.”

“Yes, well.” Loki shrugged. “We weren’t there at the time. We were on a run.”

“That’s lucky.” Glancing at Thor, Shuvt asked, “Your associate doesn’t talk?”

With a smile that looked nice—unless you knew him—Thor said, “Not until I have something to say.”

Loki held up a hand, as though to say, _what can you do?_ “Before we discuss what type of merchandise you might be interested in, there _was_ something I wanted to bring up. It’s a bit of a funny coincidence, actually.” With a furrowed brow and an apologetic smile, he went on, “It seems that our ship is actually still owned by the Preccat government…and you were the one that repossessed it earlier today.”

Surprise flashed across Shuvt’s face. “The engineer mentioned it was a couple Asgardians that said they owned it.” His expression faded from surprised to calculating. “How did arms dealers end up with one of our ships?”

Shrugging fluidly, Loki said, “We were on Sakaar when their revolution started.” He grimaced delicately and flicked his fingers. “Revolutions. Good for business, but not necessarily something I need to be personally involved in. Getting off the planet was the main concern and we didn’t have time to get to our own ship, so, you know. We took what we could get. We had no idea the Grandmaster didn’t actually own this ship.”

“So you thought you were stealing from him.”

“Well—yes.” Loki smiled graciously.

Shuvt nodded and returned the smile. His scars pulled. “It makes sense. Preccat certainly has no hard feelings. I know how these things go.”

Holding out his hands palms out, Loki said, “I can’t tell you how gratified I am to hear that.” The man had been reasonable enough so far. Time to take the plunge. “You understand, then, how we might like to have the ship back.”

There was a pause. “Back?” Shuvt said.

“We’re happy to pay you for the cost of the vessel,” Loki added quickly.

With another nod, Shuvt said, “And then, of course, you’d be happy to discuss doing business together.”

Alarms blared in Loki’s mind. It wasn’t what Shuvt had _said_ , it was the way he’d said it. A delicate emphasis on the _of course_ , maybe. Or the way his lip had imperceptibly twisted. Something was wrong and Loki needed to extricate them from this situation immediately. “Of course,” he said, still smiling. Out of the corner of his eyes, he was looking for an escape route.

There wasn’t one. Shuvt’s men had them surrounded.

Shuvt took a step forward. One of his hands was on the gun at his side. “I have a different proposal. The Preccat government has no need of money. It does, however, need more soldiers for its army. A couple of Asgardians would be a fine prize to bring back.”

His men stepped closer and drew their guns. Thor grunted and said, “You know, on second thought, you can keep the ship.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Shuvt said, smiling wider and making the scars pulls even more.

Loki pulled his daggers from their sheaths and Shuvt’s men switched their guns on. The weapons all made a high-pitched whine as they charged to full power. 

“Brother,” Loki asked, holding his daggers out and not looking at Thor, “what do you think the likelihood is of you calling up a lightning bolt or ten?”

At his side, Thor grunted. “Not high.” He paused. “But we could still probably fight our way out.”

“We could.”

“We might even win.”

“Possibly.”

“And maybe we’d get the ship.”

Loki just made a noise.

Vice Admiral Shuvt was watching, smiling as though he already knew the outcome of this. That was the thing, Loki supposed. On Preccat, the man did. Pull a blaster on the populace and the fight went out of them. Why should Asgardians be any different? They’d lost their home, lost almost all of their people. Surely they didn’t have any fight left?

“I should tell you,” Shuvt said, “that I have a full complement of men with me. What you see here—” He gestured, “—are merely those I trust the most. If you fight, you _will_ lose. And then we’ll find other uses for you. After all, you _did_ steal property belonging to the Preccat military.”

Tightening his grip on his daggers, Loki glanced at Thor. The two of them could probably fight their way out of this and survive. Possibly. It depended very much on what those guns would do to them. The Preccat seemed convinced that they would do sufficient damage to persuade them not to fight.

Even if they _did_ fight and win, at the end of it, they wouldn’t have their ship—and they also probably would never be welcome at the Lagoon again. In their present circumstances, and Asgard’s present circumstances, that seemed short-sighted.

But to be honest, it was mostly the guns. Thor might survive them. But would Loki?

Thor met his eyes and Loki pressed his lips together, raising his eyebrows in a question. His brother hesitated, but then he jerked his head once in a nod. Loki vanished his daggers and put his hands up slowly.

“So,” he said casually, as though he didn’t have twenty-five high-powered plasma discharge rifles pointed at him, “you mentioned something about an army?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you're enjoying this! I love knowing what people think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	8. Chapter 8

Preccat was the kind of place that one didn’t go to unless there was a truly pressing need to do so. And even then, you’d probably try to find an excuse not to visit. As the need had never arisen for Loki until this day, he’d never been. He’d have been content if things had stayed that way.

Thor and he stood at one of the windows as the Preccat warship descended through the atmosphere. Steam and vapor swirled over the body of the ship, flickering orange and purple as the atmospheric thrusters fired and the ship slowed.

“I’m never letting you convince me that you can talk your way out of something ever again,” Thor said.

Loki pursed his lips. “I suppose your next best plan was to do Get Help.”

“At least Get Help works,” Thor muttered.

For nearly two weeks, they’d been confined to a room on the ship with two cots and a tiny bathroom. Meal times were thrice a day at odd hours and they were escorted to and from the mess hall, the glowing Preccat guns trained on them the whole time. Loki wasn’t sure what Shuvt’s men thought they were going to do. They’d come willingly enough, hadn’t they? And while their plan hadn’t worked out exactly the way it was supposed to, one of Loki’s fictions _had_ stuck—that they were two Asgardian arms dealers named Fandral and Hogun, and most definitely not the former God of Thunder and the current God of Mischief. The Preccat thought they were just a couple of normal difficult-to-take-down Asgardians, rather than some of the most durable and/or cunning ones. Perhaps the Preccat simply didn’t care. Either way, no one seemed to question that they were who they said they were.

Their room was larger and more comfortable than their quarters on _The_ Bifrost—and the food was a lot better too. Loki had remarked on it and Thor had glared at him, prompting Loki to say huffily, “I didn’t say I’d rather _be_ here than our ship. Just making an observation.”

Speaking of the newly fixed-up _Bifrost_ , it was somewhere on the warship. When Loki had asked how long they’d need to serve in the Preccat army before getting it back, Shuvt had smiled and said, “We’ll take care of those details later.”

Later. Right. Shuvt was probably telling his superiors that the two of them could take several enemy battalions out on their own. And if they did that, they’d never leave. It would be Sakaar all over again, but this time, Loki wouldn’t be schmoozing in the penthouse suite with the glitterati. He’d be in the trenches with the grunts, sleeping in a tent in a muddy field, getting shot at or gassed or gods knew what on this planet.

Preccat, from what he remembered from lessons long ago, was perpetually at war with itself. Whether they were having the same civil war that they’d been having five hundred years ago was irrelevant. The same people may not have been in charge, but really, the same people may as well have been in charge. The ruling military class wanted the population under its thumb and while a substantial portion of the population may have accepted that, enough of it refused to. So the Preccat fought. And fought, and fought, and fought. It was a miracle that there _was_ a population to subjugate after centuries of warfare.

Then again, the two of them had been blackmailed—coerced, really—into joining up. So perhaps that indicated an issue in that arena.

“They’re going to split us up, you know,” Thor said, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on the clouds of steam that still obscured any view of the planet’s surface. “I’m surprised they haven’t already.”

Loki glanced at him. “They don’t know who we are.”

“We should keep it that way.”

Thor still wasn’t looking at him and Loki flexed his fingers at his sides. His brother was angry, but this was _not_ his fault. Resentfully, he said, “I really _did_ think our ship belonged to the Grandmaster. How was I supposed to know the ship was Preccat?”

“You had the papers.”

“Yes, I _had_ them, so if a situation arose where I needed to falsify them, I could. I didn’t _look_ at them.” When Thor drummed his fingers on one of his arms, Loki added in an aggrieved tone, “You can’t expect me to know everything.” Thor snorted and Loki had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying more and turning this into a full-blown fight.

But then, Thor glanced over at him. “You _act_ like you know everything.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean I’m convincing about it?”

Thor seemed to consider his words, which was more than Loki expected, since he was being flip. Then, Thor said, “You know I’ve always wanted to believe the best of you.” Loki waited for the inevitable, _you make it difficult_ , but it didn’t come. Nodding towards the window, Thor said, “Look.”

Turning his head, Loki caught the last wisps of steam and cloud cover streaming away from the ship as the surface of the planet opened up beneath them.

It was brown. Mostly. Flat brown plains, though off in one direction, on the horizon, Loki could see low mountains. They were brown, too. The plain below was bisected by a river and several tributaries, all—surprise!—brown. Even the clouds above them were a dull, dirty brownish yellow. There were no cities or towns in sight.

The ship banked and continued to drop in altitude until a large cleared area came into view. Loki guessed it was the airfield they were headed for and possibly a military base. From several thousand meters up, it didn’t appear that the Preccat military was trying to make up for the dearth of color in the environment in their installations.

“I can’t imagine how this planet hasn’t become the galaxy’s most sought-after holiday destination,” Loki said.

Thor laughed and the two of them lapsed into silence again as the ship descended. It circled over the airfield, then the wings folded up and the landing thrusters fired. As the ground approached—and yes, the base _was_ mostly brown—Thor said, “I’ll find you.”

Loki looked over at him. There was a ferocity, almost desperation, on Thor’s face. They’d just found each other. But Loki knew Thor felt it too. Nothing was really _right_ between them, no matter how much they both wanted it to be. And now, they might not get the chance to ever _make_ everything right.

Well, the chances of _everything_ being made right had always been slim. But maybe they could have fixed some of it.

Meeting his eyes, Thor added, “When they split us up. I’ll find you.”

Loki tilted his head and his brow furrowed. He allowed none of his thoughts to show on his face. “That’s very touching,” he said.

Shaking his head, Thor said, “I knew you’d say something like that.”

“Well, you _have_ called me predictable. Which was really below the belt, if you must know.” Loki crossed his arms over his chest and looked back to the window, in case he gave off the obviously false impression that he _was_ touched by Thor’s sentimental display. Glancing back over at Thor, he said, “But…I’ll make sure I stay alive. If you do the same.”

The ship touched down on the ground, rocking and jolting Loki. Outside their room, boots thudded on the floor. Thor put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You know I’ve survived far worse. How dangerous can this planet’s war really be?”

As the door opened and soldiers marched in, Loki remained silent, only meeting Thor’s eyes as hands grabbed him, spun him around, and shoved him out the door. The familiar whine of the guns started up at his back, but the Preccat soldiers really needn’t have worried. This was a stupid time to try to escape. And Loki tried very hard not to be stupid.

He didn’t bother looking back. The soldiers marched him down the corridor and when they reached the end of it, one of the men closed handcuffs around his wrists. His skin was much darker than the Preccat Loki had met so far and his scars were in different patterns than Shuvt’s. Loki flicked his eyes up to meet the soldier’s and smiled slightly, an invitation for the Preccat man to say something demoralizing. The soldier didn’t take the bait, instead looking up to meet Loki’s eyes, then away again. He checked the handcuffs and said gruffly, “Not too tight, are they?”

Tempting as it was to say, _yes, obviously, they’re meant to restrain me_ , he didn’t. Instead, he just said—politely, considering the situation—“They’re fine.”

The soldier nodded and led Loki through another corridor, his armed escort still at his back, until they reached the door. It opened and Loki found himself squinting into a dirty yellow sunset. One of the men at his back shoved him. He stumbled on his way down the ship’s ramp but stayed on his feet, catching, just for a second, an unhappy expression on the face of the young soldier who had handcuffed him. He was led across the dusty ground, wind whipping at his hair, and loaded into an armored vehicle. “My own private transport?” he said to the soldier, grinning crookedly. The man hesitated, then cast his eyes down and slammed the doors shut.

Loki moved to sit on one of the benches along the side of the truck, but as he sat down, the truck lurched forward. He planted his feet hard on the floor to keep from tipping over. The vehicle accelerated fast, then evened out and cruised across the flat ground, running over the occasional rock or rut that rattled Loki’s teeth. He wondered where they were taking him and where they’d take Thor. He wondered how many Preccat peasants he’d be expected to kill for the ruling military class and what tools he’d be given to kill them with. He wondered if he’d be fighting in a unit with other Preccat, or if people like Shuvt had been trawling the galaxy for other lost and unloved souls to press into service.

What would Loki do if he were a Preccat general? He’d always been more a tactician than a fighter. Oh, he could fight too, but where he’d always excelled was planning. What _he_ would do, if he were running the show on Preccat, was mix alien soldiers in with everyone else. They’d form bonds with the locals. Make friends. Start to see things from _their_ point of view, and stop seeing them as _them_ at all.

But the Preccat had been fighting the same war for centuries, so Loki was quite sure they weren’t going to do the tactically sound thing. Both Thor and he would be assigned to units composed entirely of other off-worlders.

Thor would make friends with them anyway, of course. Thor was like a big, stupid puppy who just wanted to be everyone’s friend. Loki shifted his arms, stretched them out in front of him, and twisted his wrists to try to alleviate the growing ache he could feel between his shoulder blades. Maybe Thor would put together a team—he loved doing that—and Loki would end up playing seventh or eighth fiddle to them. His gut twisted in a way that was both irritating and unsettling, and he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. _Don’t be a sentimental fool._ Whatever happened, Thor wouldn’t leave him on Preccat. Would he?

No. _No._ Hadn’t Thor just told him that he’d find him? Loki held onto that, simultaneously telling himself that he didn’t care and he’d make his own way. But the lie felt performative even to him. Well, he’d always been jealous of Thor’s friends, hadn’t he? First the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, then the Avengers. Those idiot Guardians, too. For the past three months, he’d had his brother to himself, and it had made him…happy.

Which was—well, why should he care? Why did it matter?

The truck hit a particularly large rock, almost bouncing Loki onto the floor. He sighed, then chuckled darkly to himself. _At_ himself. If he couldn’t even fool himself, then how would he fool anyone else? He couldn’t be Loki, the adrift, damaged Asgardian prince who loved his brother despite himself, and too much for his own good. He was Fandral, a weapons dealer who probably couldn’t give less of a shit what happened to his partner, Hogun.

He leaned his head back against the side of the truck. It was hot inside and getting hotter. He wished he knew more about this planet. Despite what he’d told Thor, he barely remembered learning anything about Preccat, either. He suspected that any lesson had been passing: “And this is the Preccat system; we don’t bother with them, they’re primitive and like to kill each other.” Not unlike some of the Nine Realms, really, but the Nine Realms were the Nine Realms, connected by Yggdrasil, and therefore worth knowing about.

Thor probably wouldn’t have agreed about the Nine Realms being worth knowing about. At least, not when they were children at their lessons. His brother had changed, though.

Loki smiled despite himself, then felt it fade. The Nine Realms. Yggdrasil. Thor. They were all slipping away through his fingers again and it came down to being his fault. As usual. He snorted. It really _was_ a talent. One of these days, he was going to make a decision that didn’t backfire in his face. If he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He tried to watch what passed for the scenery out of the back of the truck as it got dark, but the bouncing and the staring backwards started to make him queasy. There was nothing to see, anyway. The brown that he’d observed from the air was just as brown on the ground. More brown, if that was possible. The terrain they were covering looked dry enough to be a desert, but if the whole planet was like this, who knew? Perhaps the Preccat didn’t consider it desert, because it was just how things were here. The dusty, bare earth of the airfield gave way to brown, dried-up looking grass, but there were no hills, no variation in the terrain. No trees that he could see either, or anything higher than the occasional rock jutting up slightly higher than the ground it sat on.

A bead of sweat rolled down his face. Leather definitely wasn’t a good choice for the desert. It would be no more than the Preccat deserved if their Asgardian recruit expired from the heat in the back of their transport truck. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The air was dusty, with a mineral tang that made him wrinkle his nose. He’d probably get used to it. With any luck, he wouldn’t be trapped here long enough to get used to anything else.

Stretching his legs out so that his feet rested on the bench on the opposite side of the truck, he braced them there and tried to get comfortable. No one had bothered to tell him how long the ride was going to be. He might as well start planning how to escape.

* * *

They drove through the night, stopping once for a lukewarm meal. His drivers let him out but didn’t take his handcuffs off, which made it difficult to eat. He was hungry, so he didn’t complain. Once or twice, he tried to engage them in conversation, but they remained silent, stirring their food and paying no attention to him. So he gave up and did the same, instead looking up at the stars.

So far, the stars were the nicest thing about this planet.

He had a bad habit of always looking for Asgard in the night sky on whatever planet he was on. It had, admittedly, been easier when Asgard was still actually there. On Earth, it had always been too faint. Obviously, in New York, everything except the moon and the brightest stars had been too faint. From most of the planets in the Nova Empire, it was visible, but hard to see. It had shone brightest in Arago-7’s sky.

It was easy enough to find the patch of sky where it would have been. He forgot he was eating and let his spoon fall into the pureed vegetable and meat gelatin that passed for rations, craning his neck and looking up. The stars were jewel bright, glowing diamond hard and clear in the dry air. There couldn’t have been any cities, or even settlements, for at least a hundred miles in any direction, it was so dark. The whole of the galaxy was stretched across the sky, like a branch of Yggdrasil leading him to one of the Nine Realms.

A lump rose in his throat and he didn’t bother to blink away the glassiness in his eyes.

Until, of course, one of the Preccat soldiers growled, “Are you going to eat that or what?”

Loki’s attention snapped back to them and to the rations in his lap. “Yes,” he said, maneuvering the spoon back into his hand and up to his mouth. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on such a gourmet delicacy.”

They both glared at him and he made a mental note that they looked stupid, but understood sarcasm.

Each of them took a piss and told him to, because they weren’t stopping again. Then it was back in the truck, back to the monotony of the drive, and back to the discomfort of being handcuffed and bounced around. He tried to sleep but he felt wide awake, so he sat in the dark, measuring the passage of the hours by how many times his teeth jarred in his skull on particularly wicked ruts in the ground. Eventually, the drive got smoother, and he let his chin rest on his chest, his eyes closed and his mind drifting between sleep and awareness.

Half asleep, the memory of a conversation floated through his mind; Jane, running a hand through her short hair and saying, “Something bothering you?”

He’d rubbed at a bloodstain on his hand—not his blood—and said, “Do you mean aside from the fact that we just fought a horde of what amount to zombies?”

Jane had wrinkled her nose and said, “I don’t think they count as zombies when they aren’t actually dead. You probably need a better zombie movie education.”

“Now you sound like Strange,” Loki had said, rolling his eyes.

With a laugh, Jane had said, “You know, if all of us weren’t kind of involved in saving the universe, I’d say a horror movie night wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You haven’t seen any of the classics, have you?”

Loki had arched an eyebrow in response. “Strange thinks I talk too much during movies.”

She’d laughed again, this time in disbelief. “Wait, you two really watch movies together?”

“He says I should just watch them and not ask a million questions. Or comment on everything.” But Strange had always answered his questions, and Loki’s comments had never seemed to annoy him.

At this, Jane had shaken her head, still smiling. “You and your brother. He always talks a lot during movies, too.” Her smile had faded then, her expression growing pensive.

“What?” he had asked.

Shaking her head, she’d said, “Nothing. I don’t know. Just—wearing this helmet, carrying this hammer…I think about Thor all the time. Every time someone calls me The Mighty Thor I just want to shake them and say _I’m not_ , and Thor himself…” She stopped and shook her head, then smiled sadly. Whatever she was going to say, she’d clearly decided against doing so. Instead, she just finished, “Thor didn’t like horror movies.”

Loki had looked at her, not knowing how to respond. He’d never known what to say when the subject of his brother had come up between them.

Finally, Jane had shrugged again. “Probably not much chance of us ever getting back together, not after this.”

“Were you hoping for one?” Loki had asked.

“I don’t know what I’m hoping for,” Jane had said. “Sometimes I feel like…I’ve spent my whole life _hoping_. Hoping my research pans out. Hoping Thor would come back. Hoping my cancer was going to be cured.”

Finally, Loki had stopped rubbing at the bloodstain. It was black and tarry and it wasn’t going to come off without a shower, probably. Or possibly some of the steel wool that Strange and Wong kept at the Sanctum to clean off stubborn stains, which Strange was always cagey about the origin of, as though he thought Loki was too squeamish to handle it. Glancing at Jane, he’d said, “Technically, you got all of that.”

Jane had held Mjølnir out, staring at it. “Yeah.” She’d sighed. “So what am I hoping for now?”

At the time, he hadn’t told her that he knew exactly how she felt, because he, too, had spent his whole life wanting, grasping, never quite grabbing onto what he wanted. He should have learned by now that whatever he thought he wanted, he wouldn’t be happy with it once he got it. Hadn’t finding Thor again proved that? He’d thought it would make him happy, but nothing was right between them.

And now he was stuck on a planet, separated again from the only person who he’d never let go of and who had never let go of him.

The sun started to come up and he raised his head to squint out the back window of the truck. The sun was on the right. What direction did this planet spin? If he knew he could have determine what direction they were going. Then again, did it matter?

As the sun continued to rise and light spread across the landscape, he could see that…everything looked exactly the same as it had the day before. He rolled his eyes. He hated this planet for how boring it was, let alone all his other very good reasons for despising it.

The truck began turning. He wished he could see out the front of the vehicle, though he supposed he’d find out where they were going soon enough.

Within the hour, the truck rolled to a stop. Voices shouted outside and then there was the sound of something—a gate?—unlocking and opening. The truck moved again, but more slowly, and Loki saw a gate and a long line of high metal fencing, topped with some of the cruelest looking razor wire he’d ever seen. Somehow, it was worse even than anything he’d seen on Earth, and the humans were excellent at coming up with painful ways to hurt each other.

Carefully, he got to his feet, wincing at how stiff his back and neck were, and went to stand at the door, swaying on his feet with the slow movement of the truck. From there, he had a better view of the compound they’d entered. Rows of nondescript buildings, a central yard where lines of men were doing training exercises, the high fence surrounding the whole thing. A military base.

The truck slowed, then stopped, and the front doors slammed. There was the sound of boots on the ground, more than just the two drivers, and then guns powering up. Twenty soldiers appeared around the back of the truck, all aiming guns at his face. Loki smiled and asked lazily, “Are we there yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you're enjoying this fic so far! If you are, I would love to know what you think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	9. Chapter 9

After being unloaded from the truck, the soldiers marched Loki into a building and down a long hallway lined with doors. Near the end of the corridor, one of them yanked on Loki’s arm to stop him. Loki’s lips thinned but he said nothing as they opened a door. Before he could move, the soldier who was holding his arm jerked him back, stuck the barrel of his gun into Loki’s neck, and growled, “Just try something. I dare you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Loki said, injecting every ounce of haughtiness he possessed into his tone.

The gun jabbed into his neck again. Amazing. These people really thought they could frighten him with threats of physical violence. Another soldier removed his handcuffs, and then the one at his back shoved him through the door.

Loki stumbled, regaining his feet as the door locked behind him.

“So, where’d they pick you up?”

Loki turned around. There were six cots in the room, and sprawled on one of them was a Krylorian man—the pink skin gave it away. The two of them were the only people inside. Loki smiled humorlessly. “The Lagoon.”

“Oh, yeah. Kaelrinn, too. You’ll meet him.” The man raised his eyebrows. “So what did you do?”

Walking slowly around the perimeter of the room to survey it, Loki asked, “Is one of these beds free?”

“The one closest to the window,” the Krylorian said, gesturing with one hand.

If he’d had anything but the clothes on his back, he would have tossed them on the cot. Instead, he raised himself on his toes to try to peer out the window. There were thick bars on it, with a wire mesh cage on both the outside and the inside. The view, what he could see of it, wasn’t anything special, just the brown wall of another building. Loki turned around again and clasped his hands in front of his hips, leaning against the wall. “I had a Preccat ship which I was unaware they still considered to be under their ownership. You?”

“Came about two hundred million miles too close to this planet. They picked me up for encroaching on Preccat space. There’s a fine, at least there used to be, but they told me I could work off my debt with military service.”

“Yes,” Loki said dryly. “I was given a similar…offer. How long have you been here?”

“About two months.” The Krylorian sat up, rubbing a hand over his short hair, and held out a hand. “The name’s Oso, by the way.”

Crossing the room again, Loki shook the man’s hand and said, “Fandral.”

“You from the Lagoon?”

“No. Asgard.”

Oso whistled. “Asgardian, huh? Shit, they must’ve figured they hit pay dirt with you. You’re gonna make the rest of us look bad.”

With a thin smile, Loki said, “I’ll do my best not to.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So. Tell me about this place. Are we imminently going to be engaged in combat? Or do I have a few days to mourn the fact that I won’t be getting my affairs in order before my demise?”

Laughing, Oso said, “Your guess is as good as mine. They don’t tell us anything.”

“They?” Loki asked, mostly to keep Oso talking. You never knew what useful information someone might provide without knowing it. Or, frankly, without the listener knowing it. Sometimes things didn’t seem important at first and their significance only became apparent later.

Oso nodded. “The officers. All Preccat, obviously. Most of us—” He gestured in a vague circular motion with one hand. “—are off-worlders. There’s a few enlisted men who are Preccat. Dunno what they did, maybe criminals. Maybe they just didn’t pay their debts off, either. But there’s no chatter about any battles. I think they’re still bulking this unit up to full strength, if you want to know the truth.” He paused and considered something. “Now that they have you, though, maybe they’ll think to hell with it and send us out.” He laughed. “Nah. Training’s not done yet.”

“Tell me about that.”

Pointing towards a jug of water on a table, Oso said, “Sure, but you should drink something. The heat takes it out of you more than you expect.”

Loki took his suggestion, pouring himself a cup of water as Oso said, “Anyway, training’s about what you’d expect. They get us up early, way before the sun comes up. We get a little breakfast down in the mess, then we train. Back to base for lunch, though it’s not really ‘lunch,’ you know, because it’s still morning. But the damn sun’s too hot for anyone to be out midday, so after lunch there’s a break till the sun gets lower.” He pointed with a thumb towards the other cots in the room. “If you build up enough trust, you can pretty much do what you want. There’s a gym, a game room, and a few ‘nets if you want to go online. Just the Preccat net, though. No way to get a message out.”

Unsurprising. And browsing the Preccat net sounded terrible, but Loki didn’t say so. Sipping at his water again, Loki asked, “Can I take that to mean you haven’t built up said trust? Since you’re here, rather than outside?”

Oso chuckled. “Just felt like relaxing today. And I heard they were bringing in a new recruit, so I didn’t want to chance missing the excitement in case you were assigned to our unit.” He shrugged. “It’s pointless, anyway. Them locking fresh blood in, like they just did. You’d be stupid to try to escape this place.” He made another vague gesture. “You saw when they trucked you in. There’s nothing around for hundreds of miles, just dead grass baking in the sun. First you’d have to get past the guards and their guns. If you did that, you might make it through the night, but the sun and starvation would get you before long.”

Loki considered this, glancing towards the window and running a finger over his lower lip. Then, he asked, raising his eyebrows, “Has anyone ever tried to escape?”

“Why?’ Oso said, grinning. “Thinking of trying yourself?”

Loki snorted with humorless laughter. “Call it academic curiosity.”

“Oh, you’re an _intellectual_.” Oso laughed again. “Well, none of the rest of us are academics around here, I can tell you that much. Far as I know, no one’s been dumb or crazy enough to try.” He paused, eyeing Loki. “‘Course, you’re Asgardian. You can probably stand up to stuff that would kill the rest of us.”

It was _definitely_ better to leave this unanswered, so Loki just smiled slightly.

If Oso noticed this conspicuous lack of response, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched his arms over his head and said, “Anyway, it’s not so bad. Except, you know, the fact that we’re all here against our will. I’ve been in worse places, though.”

So had Loki, but that wasn’t really the point. He didn’t expect to have fun here just because it wasn’t the most unpleasant thing he’d ever experienced. That award still went to the weeks, maybe months, that he’d spent in the company of Thanos and the Black Order—and he was happy for nothing to ever be worse than that.

“Hey, you should get some sleep,” Oso said. “I remember that ride in from the airfield; it was killer. Don’t worry, Academy, I won’t let you miss basic.”

How delightful, he already had a nickname. Well, it was nicer than some of the things he’d been called over the years. Loki smiled and went back to his cot to take Oso’s advice.

Or at least, to give the impression he was taking Oso’s advice. The last thing Loki planned on doing was going to sleep in front of a stranger, in an unfamiliar place, on an alien world. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and laid there for however many hours it took before there was the heavy tread of boots outside. The door unlocked and he opened his eyes to see four heavily armed soldiers enter, all of them pointing those damn glowing guns at him.

“Shit,” Oso exclaimed, scrambling off his cot and to his feet, but the Preccat soldiers ignored him.

Loki just quirked an eyebrow and smiled sarcastically at them. “You know, you really don’t need to keep pointing those things at me.”

“Get up,” one of them said.

He eyed them. Could he take the four of them out? Probably. But like Oso said, there were a lot of guns to get past to escape this place, and then the dry, hot, barren miles beyond the perimeter fence. He had no water, nowhere to go, no way to leave the planet, and no idea where he was or where to go. Slowly, he got to his feet and allowed them to lead him out of the room, down the hallway and to another building. The short time that he spent outside felt like walking through a furnace. It was _hot_. Muspelheim was worse but not, Loki thought mournfully, by all that much.

They brought him to a room where a Preccat medic took his measurements and vitals. Then he was handed a beige uniform and ordered to change. None of these people looked like they’d appreciate a joke about how beige washed him out, so he refrained. They also didn’t look likely to entertain a request for privacy, so he changed quickly. He had never relished exposing his body in front of strangers—or in front of non-strangers, quite honestly. Shedding his clothing made his skin prickle. And he’d have to get it back somehow. He liked those leathers.

As he buttoned up the uniform shirt, the medic picked up a razor and turned it on. “What’s that for?” Loki asked, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.

“The hair,” the medic said, motioning towards his own head. “It has to go.”

“I’m sorry?” Loki said, recoiling. First they put him in beige, now they were going to _cut_ his _hair?_ His eyes darted around. There was no escape. Was it worth dying to prevent this from happening? He wished he’d thought of this in advance; he could have glamored it short, but now it was going to _be_ short and glamoring it long wasn’t the same.

The medic gestured to a chair and reluctantly, Loki sat in it, doing his best to appear stoic while his hair was shorn off to a length, judging by what he could see falling to the floor, that was shorter than he’d worn it even as a boy. If they didn’t like long hair, they were unlikely to appreciate his black nails, either. Surreptitiously, he curled his fingers and glamored them away. He doubted this was the type of planet where a man would insist he’d been looking at another man’s hands closely enough to see that he’d been wearing nail polish.

Loki _did_ have nice hands, though. Too bad this was a place where no one was likely to appreciate them.

“He’s all yours,” the medic said.

One of the soldiers gestured with his rifle at Loki and said, “Let’s go, pretty boy.”

Not as pretty without his hair. Loki narrowed his eyes and pushed himself out of the chair. His clothes were being dumped into a metal bin. Hopefully they weren’t meant for the incinerator. The soldiers escorted him out of the building and into the blazing sun. He’d thought it had been hot in the shade between the buildings? Feeling the full strength of the sun on the back of his neck was infinitely worse. This was supposed to be the cooler part of the afternoon, but Loki felt himself sweating already.

Men were going through drills on the training ground and the soldiers brought him to a group about halfway back. Oso was among them, as well as two Xandarians, a Zehoberei, and—was that a human? It looked like one. There was also a Preccat officer, who looked Loki up and down and said, “So, you’re the Asgardian.”

“The last I checked,” Loki replied.

“Oh good,” the officer said. “A smart ass. I’m Captain Ashta, and if you speak to me again without addressing me as ‘sir,’ I’ll have you running laps straight through the heat of the day.”

Loki straightened up and snapped his heels together. “Of course. _Sir._ ”

Ashta looked like he wanted to make Loki run those laps, but he was likely under orders to keep Shuvt’s Asgardian prize in decent condition. Loki wondered how far he could push that. Captain Ashta looked like a man who would give him the opportunity to find out.

The training exercises were standard stuff. Push-ups, squats, sit-ups, and at the end, with the day ostensibly getting cooler, laps around the inside of the perimeter fence. None of it was anything Loki couldn’t handle, but the oppressive heat meant sweat was dripping off him by the end of the run. He was a god; he was durable and strong, far more durable and strong than just about every mortal in the galaxy. But he wasn’t used to this heat, and it left him breathing hard, his uniform soaked. As much as he hated to admit it, the haircut might not have been the worst thing, even if he could feel the back of his neck getting sunburnt.

“Alright, ladies, target practice!” Ashta yelled as they headed back to the training yard.

Oso caught Loki’s eye and jerked his head, and Loki fell into step beside him, trying not to breathe so heavily. None of the other men were. He may have been more out of shape than he’d thought, though why wouldn’t that be the case? He’d effectively lived a completely sedentary life for over a year, from the Sanctum in one universe to the Sanctum in this one, then directly to _The Bifrost_. It was possible he’d put on weight, between Strange’s and Wong’s love of takeout and apparent inability to cook for themselves (not that Loki had offered, either) and Thor’s diet of calorie-laden frozen dinners.

Loki could forgive the fact that Strange didn’t usually cook for himself. How could he, with those hands? He’d cut his fingers off or spill ingredients everywhere. He did quite well, considering. Loki wondered how long it took him to shave—that goatee of Strange’s was meticulous.

And Thor, well, it was impossible to cook on _The Bifrost_. Or if not impossible, beyond him. And Loki too. He hardly knew how to cook, and he certainly didn’t know how to cook with one small microwave.

He supposed he hadn’t had much of an excuse at the Sanctum, except it was easier to eat the takeout that appeared most days. But Wong didn’t have much of an excuse, either. Still, nine months at the Sanctum; he supposed he could have made _some_ kind of attempt. There were boxes of something called Hamburger Helper that seemed to be one of the only things Strange could cook for himself. All it required was dumping prepackaged ingredients and a hunk ground beef into a frying pan and cooking it until it was done. Loki could have managed that, surely. If he ever found himself back at the Sanctum, maybe he’d offer to cook something.

What a ridiculous thought. He’d never be at the Sanctum again, and besides, the last thing he wanted to do was do anything nice for Strange. Perhaps he had heat stroke.

As they made their way across the base, Oso said, “This is our whole unit.” His voice was low enough so that the Preccat officers wouldn’t overhear him. “Kaelrinn there, and Daastyt, they’re Xandarian. The Zehoberei, his name’s impossible, we just call him Gunner.”

“Let me guess, he enjoys shooting,” Loki said.

“You got it, Academy. Anyway, that’s Evan in the back, he’s from some planet no one ever heard of before the Blip. Earth, sound familiar?”

So he _was_ human. Interesting. How in the world had a human gotten himself into space and captured by the Preccat? “Yes,” Loki said. “I’m familiar with it.” This wasn’t the time for a lesson on Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms, and he had a feeling that Oso wouldn’t be interested even if it was.

Soon, they arrived at a shooting range. The other men knew what to do and filed into a building, which turned out to be the armory. There, officers were handing weapons out of lockers lining the walls. Loki hung back, his eyes running over the amassed weaponry. The rifles that the Preccat soldiers kept pointing at Loki weren’t being handed out, nor were they visible. They were all being given smaller guns. There was also some heavier artillery that didn’t fit inside the lockers.

As Loki approached an officer, he moved his gaze away from the weaponry. He already had a reputation as a smart arse, but he didn’t need a reputation as someone dangerous on top of it. Dangerous people had tabs kept on them. That was the last thing he needed. The best thing to do was to take orders, do as he was told, fade into the background, and plot his escape.

He held out a hand for the gun, but the officer looked him up and down and said, “We don’t give these to new recruits. You can watch.”

Loki felt his nostrils flare, but he didn’t say anything. As though he couldn’t shoot a gun? He preferred his daggers, obviously, but he wasn’t going to let on that he had those. They were safely stored in his pocket dimension and had been since it had occurred to him to do so on the long drive here.

As the men made their way outside and formed up in a line, Loki followed his unit to one end of the range. Ashta stared at him as he approached and asked, “Where’s your gun, Asgardian?”

“I wasn’t issued one. Sir.” Loki stared at the captain blandly while Ashta rolled his eyes.

“What the fuck is the use of an infantryman who can’t shoot?” he said. Holding up his own gun, he asked, “You know how to use this?”

Keeping his tone even, Loki replied, “Yes, sir.”

Ashta handed it to him. “Prove it.”

Loki took the gun and smiled slightly. This was a delightful game. _Here, have a weapon that you don’t know how to use; I’m obviously not going to_ tell _you how to operate it._ He wondered if Ashta was hoping he shot himself. At the very least, it was obvious he wanted Loki to do something stupid, either to put him in his place or humiliate him just for the hel of it. Likely it was a little bit of both.

He studied the weapon, then, he flipped the switches on the side to power it up. It whined at a different frequency than the larger weapons, the ones that the Preccat obviously thought were up to the task of subduing an Asgardian. He held it up, sighted along the barrel, and fired at the target on the other end of the shooting range. A bolt of blazing violet energy sizzled out of the barrel and hit the target dead center.

Loki held the gun back out to Ashta. “How’s that, sir?”

Holding Loki’s gaze and smiling in a way that was unmistakably not friendly, Ashta said, “Go get a gun from the armory.”

The other men were watching him, recognizing a brewing conflict when they saw one. As he walked past all of them on his way back to the armory—spine straight, shoulders back, smiling faintly, it was tempting to agree with them that they were probably right. He’d been around long enough to know how this was going to play out.

So much for fading into the background.

* * *

Southern A Base, home of Southern A Battalion. Two unimaginative names from an unimaginative people. A full week—an Earth week, because Loki couldn’t shake the habit of keeping track of time after more than a year there—was enough to acquaint Loki with several pertinent facts.

  1. The beds were still more comfortable than those on _The Bifrost._
  2. He was going to have to tone down his skill on the battlefield if he didn’t want to become the Preccat’s _deus ex machina_ in every battle.
  3. Further to point 2, he was likely to get killed being forced to take on far more opponents than he could possibly handle.
  4. He missed Thor’s frozen macaroni and cheese dinners.



His professional relationship with Captain Ashta hadn’t improved. Loki gave it another week before it came to a head. At that point, Ashta’s superiors would need to decide which one of them was more important. Likely whatever happened would involve some form of punishment for him, but in the end, he was an asset. Ashta was less of one. There would always be more Preccat officers to bring here. The supply of Asgardians was rather more limited.

Glancing at Oso as they made their way down the line in the mess hall, Loki remarked, “I thought you said the food wasn’t bad here.”

“I said ‘it’s’ not so bad here. I didn’t say anything about the food. The food’s bad.”

One of the enlisted men stuck on mess duty grabbed Loki’s tray and plopped a pile of sludgy brown mush on it, then pushed it back into his hands. “I really didn’t need this much,” Loki said, wrinkling his nose.

The other soldier gave him a resigned look and motioned vaguely. “There’re some crackers down there.”

“Wonderful,” Loki muttered. Oso chuckled.

“Man,” Evan groaned from behind them. “I could really go for a burger right now.”

“Scrillian noodles,” Oso sighed. “I think I’d kill for a bowl of them.”

Loki glanced up, an eyebrow raised, as they continued moving. “Evan, I’ve been meaning to ask you how you ended up here.”

Evan held out his tray to get a scoop of a wilted, limp vegetable that Loki would have guessed was some kind of seaweed, if there was any water for hundreds of miles. “Oh yeah, I forgot, you haven’t heard it.” He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed at his sandy blond hair with one hand. “So, I was on vacation in London like ten years ago or something? And I was in a cab and suddenly we were just, like, _not_ in London anymore. It was like we went through a portal, and we were in this forest, but eventually we figured out we were on a totally different planet called Vanaheim.”

Loki’s other eyebrow went up. Ten years ago. The Convergence? Hm. Had any others been shuffled around the Nine Realms? “You never tried to go home?”

“Nah. Me and Alan—that was my cabbie—we liked it on Vanaheim. He settled down, I think he has a couple kids with his wife there.” Evan shrugged and took a handful of the aforementioned crackers, most of which crumbled into dust in his hand. Loki didn’t bother with them. Something seemed to occur to Evan. “Hey, isn’t Vanaheim like, a country in Asgard? Where you’re from?”

Well, Oso wasn’t wrong that none of the rest of them were intellectuals, but Evan was perhaps less of an intellectual than the others. “In a manner of speaking.”

Excitement flashed across Evan’s freckly face as a further realization hit him. “Wait, Asgard! Do you know Thor? The Avenger? Oh man, he’s _amazing_ , I was like watching on TV when the aliens invaded New York, and he like took down one of those huge flying monster things by _himself_.”

Keeping his expression blandly interested, Loki said, “Oh, yes. Thor. We’ve met.” He supposed he should be grateful that Evan didn’t feel the need to bring up the subject of who had instigated that alien attack on New York. The thought bit at him, and it was probably what made him add, “Thor isn’t all he’s cracked up to be.”

Evan looked crestfallen. He’d get over it. That was another thing Loki had learned in the past week—Evan was dumb but eternally cheerful, the kind of American that Strange had more than once rolled his eyes at and muttered ‘tourist’ as they’d passed on their walks around New York. Kaelrinn and Daastyt seemed to have a nonverbal language all their own, though they swore they’d never met before being brought here. Gunner had little to say, but judging by the teetering look in his eyes most of the time, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“How were things on Vanaheim before you left?” Loki asked, hoping this was casual enough that it wouldn’t arouse suspicion. He was Asgardian—why wouldn’t he be interested in the other Realms?

Of course, it would take a lot to arouse suspicion in Evan. He shrugged and replied, “Okay. Like, nothing was great after the Blip. I guess the government fell apart or something?”

Well, yes, Asgard had been destroyed, and that pre-dated the Snap, but Loki wasn’t going to correct him. “Was there war?” he asked.

“Don’t think so,” Evan replied, grabbing another handful of crackers.

It was hard to put too much faith in anything Evan said, but there was precious little on this planet to comfort him, so he’d take comfort where he could find it. The political system fracturing on Vanaheim wasn’t ideal, but it was better than many alternatives.

“Hey, we’re going to go sit down,” Oso said, punching Loki on the shoulder with a fist.

“Mm,” Loki said, trying to put Vanaheim out of his mind so he could focus on more immediate concerns. He still had to decide whether or not he wanted any of the…er…salad.

When he elected not to take it, he turned around and surveyed the mess hall. His unit—they were Unit 4 out of 10—was sitting together, taking up a table. There was an empty spot for him, but he spent enough time talking to them, and they liked him well enough. Their hurt feelings would recover from him skipping a meal. The beauty of lunch was that enlisted and commissioned men ate together. And right now, with the barriers between them lowered, he needed to make friends in higher places. His eyes scanned the room again. Then, he started as they fell on a familiar face.

With a faint smile, he made his way to a table where an officer was sitting alone. Surprising. Or maybe not. Loki remembered the concern that he’d shown when he’d handcuffed Loki a week ago during his arrival on Preccat. That sort of sensitivity probably didn’t play well in the Preccat army. To be honest, it wouldn’t have played well on Asgard, either, so Loki had some sympathy for him.

Sliding onto the bench and setting his tray down, Loki said, “Hello. Remember me?”

The young man looked up and his eyes widened. The pattern of his scars was nicer than most of the other Preccat officers at the base, swirling up over his eyebrows and down along the sides of his face, almost black against the dark brown of his skin. “They sent you here?” he blurted. Then, his face darkened in embarrassment and he said, “I mean—yes. Of course.”

There was an implicit _how could I forget?_ in those words. Depending on the planet, he could be memorable, even if he didn’t always want to be. “What’s your name?” Loki asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

The officer opened his mouth, then looked down at his food and ate a mouthful. “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” he said, refusing to make eye contact as he chewed (why? how?) and swallowed.

Loki smiled. “Why? Because your people kidnapped my business partner and me off a space station under the pretense of us paying off our debt to the Preccat military, then pressed us into service with no possibility of reprieve, except death?”

There was a silence. The man glanced up at him, then back down. “No,” he said. “Because you’re dangerous.”

His smile widening, Loki said, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Though.” He ran a finger over his lower lip, much too slowly for it to be an involuntary gesture. “I could be.”

The young man choked on the forkful of mush he’d just put in his mouth and Loki folded his hands in front of him on the table, trying not to laugh. At least he’d guessed correctly. There had been precious little here to amuse him—he’d take this poor substitute for actual entertainment. Finally, the man got his coughing under control, looked up at Loki again, and then back down to his food. His ears darkened. Oh, this was adorable.

Scooping up some of the mush and holding it on his fork, Loki stared at the officer and asked, “So. What’s your name?”

There was a long silence. Then, the man said, “Kalmsh.” Something seemed to occur to him. “Captain Kalmsh.”

“Mm.” Loki twirled the fork. The mush stuck to the tines. He made a face and put it down on his plate. Captain Kalmsh was cute in that wide-eyed, mortal, life-was-short kind of way. “You’re stationed here too, then? Are you my commanding officer?” He inflected this question with enough innuendo that Kalmsh couldn’t miss it. If watching the young man get flustered was the only entertainment he was going to get here, he was going to take full advantage of it.

And Kalmsh didn’t disappoint. He flushed again, then said, “No. I mean, yes. I’m stationed here, but I’m not your commanding officer.”

“What a shame,” Loki said. A bubble formed in the slop that the kitchen had deemed edible food and he grimaced at it. A day was going to come that he was going to need sustenance, but it didn’t necessarily have to be now. Pushing the tray away, he asked, “Did you just arrive?”

The way Kalmsh hesitated made it seem as though he thought this information was a state secret. “Earlier today,” he said reluctantly. “They—they wanted a few more men of my rank here.”

“Mm.” Was it possible the higher-ups were also looking ahead to the inevitable confrontation between Loki and Ashta? Maybe Kalmsh had been brought in to replace Loki’s erstwhile captain. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. It would be _so_ easy to get Kalmsh to like him and then he’d be able to get away with murder. Not literally, of course. Well, unless the situation called for it.

Holding up his wrists, Loki said, “By the way, no damage. I think they were the only thing that didn’t hurt after the journey here.”

“Good,” Kalmsh said, casting his eyes down at the table. “I know it’s a hard trip.” Then, he glanced up, looking like he was trying to be brave, and said, “They cut your hair.”

Caught off-guard by this, Loki put a hand up to his neck, as though he was going to find anything there except empty air and his own sunburned skin. The medic had given him something horrible smelling for it, but at least it seemed to work. “Standard procedure, isn’t it?”

“No one wears their hair long like that on Preccat. I forgot it was regulation for it to be short.” Kalmsh took a breath, then said, “I liked it better long.”

Before Loki had a chance to respond, Kalmsh got to his feet and grabbed his tray. Loki watched the captain hurry away, furrowing his brow in thought. He wasn’t looking for a romantic dalliance with one of his captors. But considering his effect on Kalmsh, it might be useful to cultivate one.

His stomach growled, and he glanced at his tray and sighed, then pulled it closer. Dinner was a long way off, and afternoon training in the hot sun was still ahead. He’d subject himself to the brown slop. Maybe, if he played his cards right, one of the benefits Kalmsh would provide him with was better rations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so things are going great for Loki, clearly. Hope everyone is enjoying the ride 😊 Because he's not, haha. If you're liking this fic, I would love to know what you think! Kudos are also greatly appreciated!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that this chapter contains some potential squicky or triggering subjects, namely a few mentions of the threat of non-con/dub-con. There's also a brief implication of past dub-con.

The rifle butt came down on the back of Loki’s head and he grit his teeth, seeing stars.

“Get up, Asgardian,” Ashta laughed. “Thought your people’re s’posed to be so fuckin’ strong. Gods, right? You call yourselves gods?”

Loki stayed on his hands and knees and Ashta kicked him in the ribs. The stink of alcohol coming off the captain was overpowering. The enlisted men weren’t allowed any drink, but whether that was army regulations or just so that Ashta could hoard it for itself was an open question.

Ashta kicked Loki again and this time Loki lost his balance and tipped over, his already sore shoulder bearing the brunt of his fall. It was hard _not_ to tip over when you were handcuffed. The other three officers who’d come here with Ashta laughed, though it was uneasy this time. When they’d first arrived, they’d egged him on. Things were getting out of hand now, though. Loki couldn’t fight back, and Ashta was getting angrier and hitting harder.

Well, Loki _could_ fight back. But he’d decided this was his opportunity to get rid of Ashta—and hopefully, following that, have Kalmsh installed in his place.

The evening had started out typically enough. There was a routine now, after three weeks on this planet. After training, the men went back to the barracks, washed in the communal showers, and relaxed for an hour or so while the sun went down and dinner was prepared in the mess. Four hours ago, that was exactly where Loki had been, eating dinner in the mess with the rest of his unit. A lieutenant had come in, grabbed Loki’s shoulder without warning, and told him he was being brought to the guardhouse.

The rest of his unit had looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. Evan looked downright shocked and he whispered, “Oh man, they’re putting you in army jail? What did you do?”

“An excellent question,” Loki had said, narrowing his eyes at the lieutenant. He had gotten up though, because he was trying to live by his credo of fading into the background. Of course, fading into the background was rather hard when one was being frog marched out of the mess and every enlisted man in the room was staring. Gunner had given him a not-very-surreptitious thumbs up, apparently impressed by Loki’s daring, despite not knowing what crime he’d committed. It was the closest thing to happiness that Loki had ever seen out of Gunner.

Once they were outside, the lieutenant had pulled out a pair of handcuffs and secured them around Loki’s wrists tightly. No concern from this one. Kalmsh’s consideration made him a rare breed in the Preccat army. “What am I supposed to have done, sir?” Loki had asked.

“They’ll tell you when you get there,” the lieutenant had said. He didn’t sound like he’d particularly cared either way. Perhaps he hadn’t. Surely there were people in the army who didn’t see it as some grand calling, who were just there for the paycheck and the pension. Perhaps this lieutenant was one of them. Loki thought his name was Varusht.

_So you don’t_ know _what I’m supposed to have done_ , Loki had almost asked, before deciding against it. No point in mouthing off.

There was another lieutenant in the guardhouse and no one currently occupying the cell. As he was locked in, the officer on duty—Molsht or Malsht or something, all these Preccat names tended to blur together in his mind—had said, “So you like the food so much that you’re stealing more than your allotted rations, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki had said, too offended to remember to tack on a perfunctory and barely civil ‘sir’ at the end. “ _No_ , I do _not_ like it well enough to steal it. Has someone accused me of stealing food?”

The lieutenant hadn’t answered this question, just ambled back to the desk, which he had put his feet on when he sat down. “Calm down,” he had said. “It’s just twelve hours in here and a couple demerits. But you don’t have to worry about racking those up, because it’s not like you’d ever get discharged, right?”

_Thanks for the reminder._ Again, no mouthing off. The Preccat just made it _so_ hard. Loki had narrowed his eyes, but in the end, didn’t respond. It had been clear what was going on, anyway. Someone, obviously a Preccat officer, had accused him of a minor infraction to get him locked up here. If he’d had any company, he would have told them there weren’t any prizes for guessing who his accuser was.

Ashta and his friends had come at the end of Lieutenant Molsht/Malsht’s shift. Maybe one of them was even supposed to be taking over for him. It showed a modicum of good sense, Loki had to admit, which wasn’t something he was used to observing from his three weeks on Preccat. The four of them had stood outside the cell for a few minutes, insulting him in ways that were more amusing than effective. What did he care if people called him names? People had always called him names. He was used to it.

He _told_ himself he was used to it, that the stories the humans had told about him for centuries didn’t hurt, that the whispers following him on Asgard had never bothered him.

Alright, maybe he cared. But it didn’t change the fact that the verbal abuse was just a warm-up. There was no point in allowing it to get under his skin. The real show was whatever was coming.

Tired of their target not reacting to their insults, one of the officers had opened the cell. Ashta had stepped inside and taken a swing at Loki, which Loki avoided easily. That had the unfortunate effect of making Ashta angry. Well, angrier. He had held out a hand and one of his friends handed him a gun—one of the big rifles, the possible-Asgardian-killers. Though it would be interesting, and relevant information, to test out whether they were _actual_ -Asgardian-killers, Loki hadn’t needed that test performed on him, and he particularly hadn’t needed it performed at that moment.

When he took a step back, Ashta had bared his teeth and snarled, “Hold still, you fucking Asgardian trash.”

Loki had stopped, mostly because there were only a few more inches between his back and the wall. The one thing he hadn’t wanted was for Ashta to have a hard surface to hold him against while he hit him, or whatever he planned to do. Perhaps Ashta was the sort of man who liked to wield a very…particular sort of power over others. It was the kind of thing that wouldn’t surprise Loki, not on a planet like Preccat, where it seemed clear that a man having sex with another man was taboo, if not outright illegal. It would be a humiliation to his victim.

Holding his hands up awkwardly in the handcuffs, Loki had said, “Sir, there’s obviously been a mistake.”

There had been no mistake. Between the way Ashta and his friends reacted, it was clear that no one actually believed the pretense that Loki had been locked up under. Fine. If Ashta wanted to play games, Loki was more than happy to.

“Think you’re better than us,” Ashta had slurred, which was when Loki had first realized how drunk he was. “Fucking Asgardian.”

“You said that already,” Loki had said, then added with a hard smile, “ _Sir_.”

It was the sort of naked antagonism that Loki had spent hundreds of years warning Thor against. You wanted to get ahead, you wanted people to do what _you_ wanted them to, then the thing to do was to _talk_ to them. Pressing their buttons, making them angry, served no purpose. It made achieving one’s aims so much more difficult. People needed to think you were on their side, they needed to think you were _sensible_.

On the other hand, sometimes getting beaten to a pulp and having the gory injuries to show for it was the surest path to achieving one’s goal. If the four of them tried anything else, well, he’d cross that bridge when he got there. He was inclined to endure it if they took their pants off. It wouldn’t kill him, after all. He _could_ stop it at any time, if he truly wanted to. And he’d certainly made similar choices in the past. Ashta getting caught at it would probably result in him being removed from command just as quickly—if not _more_ quickly.

Ashta had wrapped his hands around the barrel of the rifle and swung it at Loki so hard that it whistled through the air. The butt connected with Loki’s shoulder and he stumbled, surprised by the force that Ashta, as drunk as he was, had been able to muster.

One of the other officers had laughed and said, “Hit ‘im harder, Ash. Asgardians are supposed to be able to take it. That’s what brass keeps saying, right?”

“Yeah, this one doesn’t seem that special so far,” Ashta had said, swinging the rifle again. This time, Loki twisted so it hit him on the back, right between the shoulder blades, but Ashta was on him faster than he’d expected. He shoved Loki against the wall, forcing his wrists down with one hand, and punched him in the mouth with his other.

Loki head-butted him—Surtur’s teeth, it _hurt_ , how did Thor do this to people as often as he did?

Ashta had cracked him across the face with the rifle and Loki fell to the ground, scrambling to his hands and knees as best he could.

Which brought them to the current moment: Loki on his side while Ashta kicked him, the steel-toed boot sending pain ricocheting through him every time it connected, the other officers shuffling in silence, and Loki wondering at what point he needed to put a stop to this if no one else was willing. It would be easy. The handcuffs could do nothing to keep him confined if he chose to use his magic. There were only four of them and the gun wasn’t aimed at him. He’d have enough time to act before they could shoot him.

Of course, the problem with that was that he’d have used his magic—used it in front of four officers. Even these backwater rubes were likely to know that this was not a skill that the typical Asgardian possessed. Then he’d have to do damage control. Erasing their memories would be simple enough, but he’d still have his bruises and cuts to explain. So he’d have to glamor them away, but then this all would have been for nothing.

And while the pain was one thing that he didn’t want to have borne for no good reason, it was really the humiliation. The way Ashta had talked to him. He was an Asgardian. He was a _prince_. He was a son of Odin and Frigga. These people, these pathetic, primitive people, who knew nothing except killing each other because that was what their leaders told them to do, were nothing.

It made his blood boil; it made his magic seethe to the surface of his skin and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood, to keep from losing control of it. The anger inside him, the black storms that raged there, were full of enough destructive fury that he could destroy this entire base. He could leave nothing but a crater; he could destroy even himself with ease. It would be fitting if nothing but a crater memorialized him. But he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He would beat them at their game, he would outlast them, he would fucking prevail and be more than what anyone thought him capable of.

Ashta spit on him and Loki curled up to present a smaller target, digging his fingernails into his palms to control his anger. He hadn’t expected to get so angry, though now that seemed utterly foolish. Anger had been a constant presence in his life, roiling just under the surface, for so long now.

Another blow slammed into his side. Sooner or later, if Ashta kept kicking him, he might actually break a rib. That would be harder to hide, though he could take it. It would heal, but it wouldn’t be any fun doing training exercises with a cracked rib.

“Not so tough now, are you, smart ass?” Ashta laughed. He raised the gun high over his head and Loki’s fingers uncurled and stretched. Fine. This hadn’t worked; he’d cover it all up. He was _not_ going to get his skull split open as part of this ploy.

“What’s going on in here?” a voice demanded. The guardhouse door slammed shut. Loki had never heard it open, but neither had Ashta and his friends.

The four of them turned around, looking guilty to a man. No point in _not_ looking guilty, Loki supposed. They’d been caught beating up a poor, _defenseless_ prisoner. Though Loki’s eyes were already swelling shut, he was able to see that the man who’d come in was none other than Captain Kalmsh.

But he was alone. Would Ashta and his friends stop their fun, or would they turn on Kalmsh, too? Ashta might be drunk enough and his friends might be stupid enough to follow his lead. Loki kept the spell he’d been about to cast at the tips of his fingers.

“I said,” Kalmsh repeated, “what’s going on?”

When Loki had first met him, he’d wondered who had made this shrinking violet a captain. But Kalmsh was acquitting himself rather well. There was steel in his tone; a cold, hard authority that was designed to make men stand up straight, salute, and march towards death before their commanding officer killed them himself. It was the last thing Loki had expected to hear out of Kalmsh.

It also had to be said, he had the advantage of not being utterly soused, the importance of which really couldn’t be overstated. Now that Ashta wasn’t kicking Loki anymore, he could barely stay upright.

There was a long silence. Then one of Ashta’s friends said sullenly, “He mouthed off.”

“That’s what demerits are for,” Kalmsh said, his voice full of icy fury. “Which one of you is on duty right now?”

Loki could have laughed if his face didn’t hurt so much. If he squinted—and to be fair, he couldn’t do much except squint—he could see that the other three officers were all outranked. Two lieutenants and an ensign. They’d already been uneasy with Ashta’s exuberance and they likely wouldn’t risk damage to their careers by being insubordinate to a superior officer.

“I am,” one of the lieutenants said unwillingly.

Kalmsh looked at him coldly and lifted a wrist to his mouth, saying into his comm wristband, “I need someone down in the guardhouse. The on-duty man needs to be relieved of his post.” The response that came to Kalmsh’s earpiece and was inaudible, but he said, “Yes, that’s right. And some security, too.”

It only took a minute for the cavalry to arrive and for Ashta and his three friends to be escorted away. They’d all be confined to quarters. The guardhouse was only for enlisted men, not officers.

As they were being taken out, Kalmsh came into the cell and knelt down next to Loki. “Are you alright?” he asked. The anger in his voice was gone.

Loki pushed himself up on an elbow and looked at Kalmsh. The young officer looked genuinely concerned. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he knew it hadn’t been that. “I’ll live,” he said.

Kalmsh put a hand under his arm to help him sit up. “You need to go see the medic,” he said.

Funny that when he had a purpose, Kalmsh showed much less inclination to allow Loki to fluster him. Then again, if his face looked anywhere near as terrible as it felt, he wouldn’t blame the young man for not finding him quite so fascinating.

Loki tried to wave a dismissive hand, forgetting about the handcuffs, and winced as they caught. Kalmsh noticed and held his wristband up to them. The handcuffs clicked and came off. As he rubbed at his wrists, which had been chafed raw, Loki said, “I’ll be fine. Truly.”

Kalmsh didn’t respond. He glanced back towards the new officer on duty, who’d probably been pulled away from playing cards or something equally more interesting than sitting in the guardhouse. “Look,” Kalmsh said, “you’re supposed to be here for another eight hours. But if you go to see the medic, I think we can consider your confinement over.”

Loki looked at Kalmsh, who, after fifteen to twenty seconds of sustained eye contact, finally dropped his eyes. But at last, Loki nodded. Kalmsh helped him to his feet and insisted on walking him to the infirmary. They didn’t speak, but Kalmsh stayed while the medic treated him.

“Good to go,” the medic said once he was done. He sounded like he thought all of this was beneath him, which was a feeling Loki understood very well. His hand had seemed steady as he’d put stitches in the cut over Loki’s eye and cleaned out the others, and he’d confirmed no broken ribs with a physical examination that _had_ , on the other hand, confirmed each individual bruise that was forming on Loki’s torso. Perhaps a steady hand should have been enough to guarantee a promotion in the Preccat army. Southern A Base didn’t strike Loki as a place they sent the cream of the crop.

When Loki got up, Kalmsh broke his silence. “Give him a painkiller,” he said to the medic.

“That’s not necessary,” Loki said, mostly because he doubted the efficacy of whatever they had here.

But Kalmsh ignored him, and the medic pulled a bottle of pills out of a cupboard. “Don’t know how many of these an Asgardian should take,” the medic said, handing them to Loki. “Maybe start off with two.”

“Well, I suppose if my unit can’t wake me up, you’ll know I’ve taken too many,” Loki said. The medic looked at him flatly, as though he hoped Loki was being sarcastic but couldn’t quite tell, and like he didn’t want to waste his breath telling Loki that it would be a bad look for one of the men to overdose on drugs that he’d dispensed. Loki held up the bottle and shook it. “I’ll start with two.”

The medic nodded and turned away, and Loki and Kalmsh left the infirmary. In silence again, Kalmsh accompanied Loki back to his barracks.

“I’m sorry,” Kalmsh finally said.

Loki smiled slightly. It made his face hurt. Maybe he _would_ try taking those painkillers. They could only help. “I was going to say, I suppose I should thank you.”

Shaking his head, Kalmsh said, “You don’t need to thank me. I did my job. That was an abuse of power, and they won’t get away with it.”

An hour ago, Loki wouldn’t have believed that Kalmsh could make something like that happen. Now, he’d seen how people listened to the captain. So perhaps this wasn’t an empty promise.

Still smiling slightly, Loki said, “Well, things will be a bit uncomfortable if I remain under Ashta’s command.”

Meeting Loki’s eyes, Kalmsh said, “You won’t.”

Loki nodded slowly, then put his hand on the door to his barracks. He paused before opening it, though, staring down at Kalmsh. “Good-night, Captain,” he said, before Kalmsh nodded to him and departed.

The next morning, Ashta was gone and Captain Kalmsh was Loki’s commanding officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying this fic and I would love to know what everyone thinks! Kudos are also greatly appreciated 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	11. Chapter 11

Week four. More training. The last time Loki had been this bored was when he’d been stuck in solitary confinement in Asgard’s dungeons. At least he’d _been_ on Asgard, where there were books. And his mother. And his anger, which had provided a certain amount of company when it had really been coursing through him. His father had gotten his comeuppance many, _many_ times in Loki’s fantasies.

He’d imagined what he’d say to Thor, too, when Thor finally came to see him. But of course, Thor hadn’t come to see him. Frigga had been the only one who had been willing to look past what he’d done to the fact that somewhere, under his rage and pain, he was still _him_.

Until, of course, he’d told that monster how to get to her and had a direct hand in her death.

Perhaps this was the wrong train of thought.

Loki planted his elbows in the dry grass and brought the binoculars up to his eyes. Definitely the wrong train of thought. He was supposed to be practicing _not dying._ Or was he supposed to be practicing killing? In any case, he was already quite good at both. This training exercise was ridiculous. He was 1,054 years old. He’d fought in more battles than he could count or remember and he’d masterminded quite a few of them. The last thing he needed was to engage in play, shooting flash rifles and throwing smoke grenades.

On either side of him, Kaelrinn and Daastyt hunkered down in the grass, peering through their own binoculars. “Forty-five?” Kaelrinn said.

Daastyt made a noise. “Fifty.”

Degrees, Loki assumed they meant; the two of them were good at communicating with each other, but not great at communicating with anyone else. He turned his head to look fifty degrees from north and saw something moving.

Of _course_ he saw something moving. There was no cover here. If this was how every battle played out on this planet, it was no wonder they were importing off-worlders. All you had to do was point your gun and fire, and you were sure to hit _someone._ “Gunner,” he said.

“Fire in the hole,” the Zehoberei said gleefully, lifting the rocket launcher onto his shoulder. It was loaded with flash powder to make sure no one suffered an untimely demise—before, that was, they were sent into battle to suffer exactly that.

When he fired, the other unit in the distance returned fire, which exploded over them in a hail of fine pellets and silty gunpowder. Loki ducked and brushed the powder out of his hair. That was one benefit to his hair being short, he supposed.

Their comm wristbands hissed and Oso’s voice said, “Bogey on your six, Academy.”

Raising his wristband to his mouth, Loki replied, “One only says that in air and space battles, but point taken.” Gesturing to his unit, he said, “Let’s move.”

The four of them got to their feet and stayed low, moving from their vantage point to join Oso and Evan. But before they’d gone more than a few dozen meters, a smoke grenade landed in front of them and went off, obscuring the area in a thick fog. When it cleared, another unit was standing there surrounding them, aiming their rifles.

“Better luck next time, boys,” one of the other soldiers, a Kree, said with a grin. Ah, so it was Unit 1. Loki rolled his eyes. Oso and Evan appeared in the clearing smoke, escorted by a few soldiers from the other unit. Their respective captains watched from a distance. It was easy to imagine what Ashta would have said, had he still been their commanding officer—easy to imagine his displeasure being taken out on Loki with the butt of a rifle, too. The side of Loki’s face twinged in remembered pain.

Kalmsh’s expression, though, was unreadable. Their new captain hadn’t shown any inclination towards violence. He’d been fair to a fault, officially. Unofficially, Loki had caught him staring. He’d stopped by their unit’s barracks the other day simply to tell them all that he appreciated their hard work, and Loki had been changing when he’d come in. It was flattering to stun someone into silence just with the sight of one’s body, Loki thought, smiling wryly at the memory.

If Kalmsh was trying to keep his preferences a secret, though, he needed to do a better job. Considering the kind of society this was, Loki could only assume that hiding it was the prudent course of action. But after Kalmsh’s words had died halfway through his sentence and his eyes had locked on Loki, half-naked, Oso had looked at their captain as though he knew very well that the unit’s hard work wasn’t the only thing he was appreciating right then.

Oso hadn’t said anything. Loki had pretended not to notice the effect he’d had on Kalmsh. He hoped Oso didn’t become a problem. He liked him. But he hadn’t taken that beating at Ashta’s hands to have his plan unravel simply because his barrack-mate didn’t like the idea of their commanding officer being attracted to people who had the same genitalia as him.

Unit 1’s captain yelled, “Alright, set up camp! Let’s see how you all do when you don’t have comfortable beds to go back to.”

“They’re not that comfortable,” Kaelrinn muttered.

That was their second exercise for the day—set up camp, feed themselves, survive a night out in the desert. They’d be watched to make sure no one got it into their heads that escaping was a possibility, just in case it hadn’t sunk in that the desert wasn’t exactly what one might call ‘survivable.’ But their captains wouldn’t be with them.

Loki’s unit chose their site by the amount of grass cover and the suitability for a fire pit. Somehow, he suspected that there might be a more severe punishment than pointless demerits if they set this half of the continent on fire. If he could think of a way to turn it to his advantage, he would have considered it, but so far it just seemed like a good way to get burned alive.

The six of them pitched their tents, got a fire going, and cooked their rations as darkness fell. As they finished dinner and the stars started coming out, Oso said, “Times like this, you wish they’d give us some booze.”

“It’s more than just times like this,” Daastyt said.

Evan scraped the last of his brown mush out of the can. “Guess you miss that the most? Booze?”

“Nah,” Oso replied. “It’s just pretty high up on my list.”

Kaelrinn looked up and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Daastyt said, “So what _does_ everyone miss the most?” Kaelrinn nodded and gestured, as though to indicate this was what he’d been about to say. It probably had been. At times, it seemed unbelievable that they’d never met. But Kaelrinn said he’d spent his entire life on the Lagoon and Daastyt swore he’d never been within ten light years of the place.

“What, from outside?” Oso asked.

“Well, I don’t mean from the base.”

Tossing his empty can at Daastyt, Oso said, “Good one.”

There was a silence and then Kaelrinn asked, “So?”

The fire popped and Evan said, after some thought, “Women.”

The men laughed and Gunner said, “Something less obvious. We all miss women.”

There was another silence while the six of them thought and the fire crackled. Preccat didn’t have a moon. It was oddly difficult to get used to it, considering Asgard didn’t have one either. But Loki had spent enough time on Earth that he’d become accustomed to seeing the moon there. The sky seemed empty without one.

With a shrug, Oso said, “Okay. I got one. Music. You notice no one listens to music here?”

Loki folded his hands in his lap and said, “Maybe we should be grateful. It might be as good as their rations.”

“Can’t be,” Daastyt said. “Nothing can be that bad.”

Kaelrinn chuckled and said, “It’s weird, but there’s this soap on Xandar. Always used it, ever since I was a kid. My mom bought it and I guess it was just…habit. I miss the smell of that stuff.”

Making a noise of agreement, Daastyt said, “That charcoal stuff, right? Cleanaway?”

“Yeah, I think they’ve been making it for centuries.”

“Well, if it ain’t broke…” Daastyt laughed. “Anyway, for me, it’s seeing something different. Not just freedom, I mean, we all miss that, but the chance to see a new place. Meet new people.”

With a grin, Oso said, “Aw, what’re you talking about? Just look at all these new people you’re meeting! Where else could a couple of Xandarians, a Terran, a Zehoberei, an Asgardian, and a Krylorian all get along?”

“The Kyln,” Gunner offered. Loki snorted and the others looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate, and they didn’t ask. No one did, if you gave any indication you’d done time there. The Kyln had been a brief stop-off in the year after The Fall. It hadn’t been as difficult to escape from as they claimed. Of course, being able to do magic helped.

Stretching his legs, Gunner said, “I miss my kids.”

Evan dropped his can on the ground, then said, “You have kids?”

“Sure. Five of ‘em.”

“They got a mom?” Oso asked curiously.

“Yeah. Don’t miss her as much.”

This tidbit kept them all quiet for a few minutes. A light freeze rustled the dry grass and made the fire gutter. It felt good after the heat of the day. The air never cooled here, even at night, so anything that provided some relief from the heat was a blessing. Nights were still, hot, and oppressive, and there was no air conditioning in their barracks. Loki had resorted to stripping naked and casting a glamor of clothing more than once, just so he’d be able to get a little rest instead of lying there all night sweating and feeling like he was suffocating.

“What about you, Fandral?” Evan said, elbowing him.

He snorted. “Climate control.”

“Come on,” Oso said. “Seriously.”

Well, it _was_ serious, but it probably fell into the same category as women. Or rather, sex, which was really what they meant. Loki smiled a little. “I spend most of my time missing something or another. And that didn’t start when I ended up here.”

Oso grinned. “Thought you might say your ma.”

“Hm.” His gaze unfocused. He missed his mother every day, but he wasn’t going to talk about that. Still, his fingers twisted together, and if any of these men had been observant enough to pick up on his tics, they’d notice that Oso had struck a chord. “Well, that’s as good as any other answer.”

With a sigh, Evan said, “It’s home, right? We all just miss home.”

The others agreed, but Loki remained silent. What if one didn’t have a home to miss? His home had been gone for years. Missing it was just torturing himself. If the six of them ever got off this planet, the others could go home. Not Loki. He didn’t have anywhere to return to.

Gunner stood up and stretched. “Well, boys, I’m turning in. Maybe one of these days they’ll let us start blowing shit up for real. The only way we’re getting out of here is if we win fights.”

Kaelrinn and Daastyt doused the fire, and the six of them went to their tents, closing them up as they cheerfully yelled their good-nights. But once Loki was lying down on the hard ground, he couldn’t fall asleep. Someone should tell Gunner that no one was getting off Preccat by winning battles. After all, he’d seen this before on Sakaar. The only way off this planet was death—or, also like Sakaar, a risky escape.

One of them was infinitely more appealing than the other. The problem was, he couldn’t put the risky escape option into practice. Not without Thor. He wasn’t going anywhere without his brother. Maybe that was like Sakaar, too.

He snorted at himself in the solitude of his own tent. He’d lied about what he missed the most about his old life.

Well, of course he’d lied.

Wherever Thor was, Loki hoped he was telling the same lie.

* * *

There were, of course, lessons to be learned from the training exercise. Instead of their afternoon of freedom (which Loki had, after Kalmsh’s arrival, finally been allowed to partake in) the following day, they sat in a stuffy room yawning and going over tactics. What they’d done wrong, what they’d done _really_ wrong, what would get them killed if the battle had been real. It seemed that none of them had done anything right, even the units that had ‘won’ the exercise.

When they were finished, it was time to go back outside and train. At least the officers didn’t look particularly pleased about it either. They’d all had to sit through the lecture too—give it, in some cases, though Kalmsh hadn’t been involved in the talking. He’d sat at the side of the room with the other nine captains, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should appear chagrined or stoic.

Loki spent most of the time watching him, rather than listening. It was time to make serious inroads with the young captain. He was bored. And he’d spent a month in this terrible place with no information about the outside world. He needed to know _something_. There would be no escape plan without some grain of knowledge about what was happening out there. All this time and he still didn’t know when or where they’d be fighting. And even if he knew that, he still didn’t know where Thor was.

So that was _really_ it. Finding out when they’d be taking part in an engagement was important, but nothing was as important as finding his brother.

The thought was sickening.

Still. There it was.

When the lecture—right, _tactical meeting_ —adjourned, and they all filed out of the room to head for the training ground, Kalmsh said, “Fandral, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Loki stopped and said, “Of course, sir.” To Kalmsh, he kept his ‘sirs’ far less obsequious and borderline insubordinate. The point, after all, was to make Kalmsh think this relationship was friendly. It wasn’t _un_ friendly. The captain was likable. That was it. Just…likable, in a way that wasn’t particularly special.

The room emptied, but Kalmsh remained silent, looking like he didn’t know how to begin. Loki crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the wall, cocking his head at the captain. When Kalmsh met his eyes, Loki raised an eyebrow and smiled a little, and this had exactly the effect he wanted it to.

Flushing and glancing down at his feet, Kalmsh said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away,” Loki said. He wondered if Kalmsh would mark the lack of ‘sirring’ in this conversation and doubted it. The captain didn’t seem able to stand on propriety when it came to Loki.

Finally, Kalmsh seemed to gather himself. “You’re Asgardian, right?” When Loki nodded, Kalmsh said, “Why aren’t you fighting like one?”

Loki laughed. “And how is an Asgardian _supposed_ to fight?” he asked.

“I just thought—” Kalmsh looked flustered, as usual. “Aren’t your people all warriors?”

Drumming his fingers on his arm, Loki said, “What’s your real question?”

After hesitating, Kalmsh said, “Brass thinks you’re pulling punches. They think you can fight harder.”

His eyebrow still arched, Loki said, “Oh, I can. Is that what you want to see, Captain?” A smile twitched at his lips. “Because I would _so_ hate to disappoint.”

Kalmsh’s swallow was practically audible. In a way, this was unfair. Loki barely even needed to try to seduce the captain—the other man was doing all the work for him. But then, taking a deep breath, Kalmsh said, “If they ask me, I’ll tell them that.”

Loki pushed away from the wall, one fluid motion designed to show off every bit of his lithe grace. Let Kalmsh think about his hips moving like that under different circumstances. “Not them. I’d hate to disappoint _you_.” He headed for the door, knowing he’d flustered Kalmsh into silence. And indeed, as he spun on his heel in the doorway to look back, the other man was flushing again. Poor Kalmsh. All the deep breaths in the world weren’t going to help him. What he needed was a cold shower. Of course, the water was never cold here, either.

“Now, if that’s all, Captain, the rest of my unit’s waiting for me outside.” Loki put a hand to his chest and smiled crookedly. “I promise I’ll try harder.”

Kalmsh made a noise, attempted to speak, and then managed to get out something that sounded like, “Alright, that’s—that’s good.”

As Loki joined as unit for afternoon exercises, Oso muttered to him, “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Loki said, “Just a discussion about making sure I reach my full potential here.”

Oso laughed. “Bet you loved that, Academy.” When Loki flicked his fingers in acknowledgement of this point, Oso added in a lower tone, “Hey. I’m saying this as a friend, okay? Kalmsh…you should be careful.”

With a snort, Loki said, “Why do you say that?”

“He’s, well, how do I put this…” When Loki raised his eyebrows, Oso lowered his voice further and said, “Remember how we were talking about missing women? I don’t think he misses _women_.”

It was impossible not to laugh. How sweet. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself in that arena.”

Oso looked confused that his concern had been rebuffed. Then, a dawning understanding replaced the confusion. Loki met his eyes, allowing some of the steel of his soul to show. Or maybe he was just playing the villain. “In any case,” Loki said, his tone containing just enough danger to get the point across, “it doesn’t seem as though it’s anyone’s business, does it?”

There was no hostility on Oso’s face, but his tone was hard to read as he repeated, “And you can take care of yourself.”

Obviously he understood. Good. Loki didn’t really need to clarify that he himself enjoyed the attention of men, women, and anyone in between or outside of that. 

Oso regarded Loki, then he shrugged. When he opened his mouth to respond, one of the officers yelled, “Quiet back there!”

Oso shrugged again and the afternoon passed in drill after drill. The conversation didn’t come up again. There were several new exercises mixed in, which relieved some of the boredom. And Loki put in slightly more effort. There was some danger that Kalmsh’s superiors would think he wasn’t getting the right results out of their pet Asgardian and that a different captain might be able to do more. That was the last thing Loki wanted. He could control Kalmsh. And while a challenge was good for keeping the mind sharp, he didn’t need one now. Tolerating this place was enough of a challenge.

As usual, their unit ate dinner together. Oso didn’t mention their discussion. Whether this was because he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened or because he didn’t care didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he kept quiet and didn’t make things difficult or strange. If he did that, someone else might take note. And if someone took note, then Oso might have to have an accident.

This was their one free night a week. Kaelrinn and Daastyt did their best to convince everyone to come to the recreation room and play a Xandarian card game with them. Or rather, their best approximation of it with Preccat cards. Loki demurred, saying he was too tired and that he’d head back to their barracks. It wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t feel like sitting in the game room surrounded by the odors of sixty men, or however many managed to cram themselves in there. It was times like this that he really could have used a book. But Preccat didn’t seem like the type of place that encouraged reading. There certainly wasn’t a library on base. The idea was laughable.

As he walked along the lit pathway to his barracks, his mind returned to the afternoon’s training. New exercises had to mean something. Perhaps they were being shipped out soon. It was about time.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Loki turned, unsurprised to see Kalmsh there. He’d heard the footfalls approaching. Most people couldn’t sneak up on him. But maybe Kalmsh hadn’t been trying to.

“Thanks,” Kalmsh said.

Loki furrowed his brow. “For?”

“Doing what you said you would.”

“Ah. Well.” Loki looked around, then stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. He still hated the beige. “You asked so nicely.”

The base was quiet for a free night. It was just the two of them out there under the buzzing lights. Kalmsh looked down at his feet. “You don’t seem to respond well to threats.”

Loki chuckled, though deep down he wondered if this was true. Some threats, he responded terribly predictably to. The Preccat army’s problem was that they didn’t know what those threats were. “That’s an excellent observation.” He tilted his head. The hot air was oppressive. Sweat trickled down his back. “Then again, you do seem very…observant.”

Looking back up to meet Loki’s eyes, Kalmsh said, “I try.” This was brave for the captain, and perilously close to saying what he meant. But then he looked away again. Loki paused, waiting, but when Kalmsh didn’t go on, he turned to walk away. It was so very, _very_ clear what his commanding officer wanted, but he needed to be the one to initiate.

And then Kalmsh said to Loki’s back,“This is a free night.”

There was a note of desperation in his voice. Loki smiled to himself before he stopped. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “That’s true.”

Glancing up, Kalmsh said, “Would you—um, would you like to…” He stopped, looking like a Alfheim Frost Deer caught in headlights, and Loki turned fully around to face him. Did he need to give Kalmsh an extra push? He could lick his lips, but at a certain point, this would be farcical. Kalmsh only had to issue an invitation. _Any_ invitation. Just a reason for them to be alone together.

A few more stuttered syllables, and Kalmsh finally managed, “I have wine. In my…er…quarters.”

So Ashta hadn’t hoarded _all_ the alcohol to himself. Loki smiled. Taking several slow steps closer, he looked down at Kalmsh, held his gaze, and said in a low voice, the suggestion in it unmistakable, “How can I possibly turn down wine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for continuing to hang in with this fic! It means a lot to me. As always, I love knowing your thoughts and am thrilled to hear from you! 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heads up for this chapter: it contains (probably obviously) a sexual situation. It's brief and not graphic.

The wine was bad.

But as he pushed Kalmsh against the wall of the captain’s private quarters, kissing him hard, Loki had to admit it tasted better on someone else’s mouth. Kalmsh’s fingers fumbled at Loki’s clothes as Loki slipped his hands under the waistband of Kalmsh’s pants, opening them and jamming his hips into Kalmsh’s. The man was practically gasping with excitement and need. It was almost sad. But then again, Loki was a little drunk himself, and he had surprised himself by actually wanting this. Kalmsh was handsome and seemed like he’d be considerate. And Loki didn’t take that lightly. He’d used sex to get what he wanted with men who most definitely _weren’t_ considerate. That included the last man he’d had sex with. The last person, full stop, actually, as there hadn’t been any women since the Grandmaster, either.

Kalmsh had no idea how to get someone’s clothes off, so Loki took pity on him and undid the buttons on his own uniform, pulling it off, then doing the same for Kalmsh. With a groan, Kalmsh ran his hands over Loki’s chest—glamored, of course, to hide his many scars—as they kept kissing, open-mouthed and hungry. The room was hot. Preccat was always hot. Or maybe it was just the wine and the feeling of Kalmsh under Loki’s palms—skin smooth, muscles hard, the bulge at the front of his underwear…promising. Or possibly—probably, actually—it was the fact that Kalmsh was working Loki’s pants over his hips, kneeling and—

_Oh._ Now _that_ , he hadn’t expected. Loki twisted his fingers in the tight coils of Kalmsh’s hair and closed his eyes, his breath coming faster and shakier. He’d assumed he’d perform this service for Kalmsh, not the other way around, and—

Oh, gods. This man didn’t have actual, real _feelings_ for him, did he?

Shit.

No. Why should he care? This arrangement was mutually beneficial. Loki got information and Kalmsh got to fuck him. Which was, Loki rather thought, a fair trade off. In fact, considering Kalmsh was only a captain and unlikely to know anything of all that much value, he was probably getting the far better end of the deal.

Though at the moment—he had to stifle a groan—the main beneficiary of this situation was Loki himself. And it had been a long, _long_ time since he’d gone to bed with anyone who interested him, even if only physically. Maybe Kalmsh was just a convenience fuck. But he was completely serviceable, with those big, brown, long-lashed eyes and the scars swirling up over his forehead, his skin that dark, dark brown, so that it almost took on a blue-black tone in the sun, his—well, okay, yes, the point was, he was attractive, and he was currently making Loki feel very good.

It wasn’t right.

He swallowed hard, tightened his grip of Kalmsh’s hair, and then made a decision that made him want to kick himself before he’d even followed through with it. “Stop,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Stop, just—get up.”

There was a delay, then a pause, as though Kalmsh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _Loki_ couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor that he was the one who’d said it. He took a step back, saying, “Stand up. Please.” Before he changed his mind.

Slowly, Kalmsh got to his feet, confusion radiating off him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Closing his eyes and exhaling slowly to control a host of physical sensations and emotions, including deep exasperation at himself and his better nature inserting itself into what had been shaping up to be excellent transactional sex, Loki said, “Nothing.” Then, he opened his eyes and met Kalmsh’s. The man was almost a foot shorter than him.

It would have been better than transactional sex, because he wanted Kalmsh too much. _That_ was what was wrong. Loki wasn’t going to get attached to anyone on this horrible planet. “You understand what this is, right?” he asked.

If possible, Kalmsh looked even more confused. “It’s—um. We like each other.”

With a sigh, Loki said, “Yes, we do, but that’s not—look.” This would be a far less uncomfortable conversation if he wasn’t stark naked, with his pants around his ankles and the evidence that he _liked_ Kalmsh too obvious for either of them to ignore. Did it make it more or less dignified to leave the pants where they were?

He should put them on.

He bent over to pull them up, feeling Kalmsh’s eyes on him as he fastened them. When he looked back up, he said, “You’re my commanding officer. I was pressed into military service.” He paused, then added meaningfully, “Against my will. An off-worlder, with a life and friends and family elsewhere.”

Mixed truth and lies. A life? True, sort of. Friends? Maybe a little. Family? His only family was on this terrible planet with him. In theory, at least. He could only hope that Thor was still alive, wherever they’d taken him.

Hopefully that was clear enough. It was more than he should have said. It was perilously close to an admission that he was plotting his escape, and he’d been ready to put Kalmsh in a compromising position to get the information he’d needed to do the plotting. Well, actually, Loki had been expecting to be the one to be in the compromising position. Details. Loki tried to keep his eyes on Kalmsh’s face so he wouldn’t think about how the rest of his body would have felt.

They both would have liked it, either way.

There was a long silence. Then, Kalmsh took a breath and asked, “You thought you had to do this because I’m your commanding officer?” Loki just raised his eyebrows, letting that speak for itself. He wasn’t sure that he actually _did_ think that. If he’d turned down the transparent offer of wine, he didn’t think Kalmsh would have forced the issue.

Kalmsh let out a whoosh of air, looking upset. No, ‘upset’ didn’t quite capture it. Mortified. Sad. Resigned. Frustrated, but Loki sympathized with that. Covering his face with a hand, Kalmsh said, “What do you want to know?”

Loki gaped at him, caught completely off-guard, before he finally said, “I beg your pardon?”

Waving his other hand, Kalmsh said, “You were going to sleep with me for information. You don’t even have to…” He swallowed. “…to sleep with me. I’ll tell you what you want to know.” When Loki remained silent, Kalmsh dropped his hand away from his face. “That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? All that about you being an off-worlder. You’re trying to figure out how to get out of here.”

Loki licked his lips, ready to tread carefully. “I like to be informed. One never knows when an opportunity might…present itself.”

There was another silence. Then, Kalmsh said, “I really thought you liked me.”

Norns help him. “I do like you,” Loki said, his tone gentler than he’d expected it to be. “That’s why I’m telling you this. I can’t—” But he stopped, because he didn’t really know how he’d planned to finish that sentence.

He couldn’t what? Use someone? He’d done plenty of that. And he’d been used, himself—not necessarily sexually (though that too), but in ways, both casual and calculated, that people commodified others. Their affection and their loyalty. Their blind spots.

Because the truth was, Loki had felt used ever since that day in the weapons vault when he’d picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters and confirmed what he’d discovered about himself on Jotunheim. And then his father had appeared and Loki had wanted so, _so_ desperately for there to be some kind of mistake. For his father to tell him that he was wrong about all of it, that there was a reasonable explanation. That he was Loki of Asgard and nothing else. That he always had been and always would be. That maybe he’d never be king, but that didn’t mean there was something wrong with him.

But Odin had confirmed one horrible truth after another. Frost Giant. Unwanted. Abandoned. A pawn. A hostage. Raised civilized to be installed on the throne of a savage vassal planet. He’d never been Asgardian, never been meant for the Golden Throne. Never been an Odinson. Never been loved.

Everything had shattered. Everything had lain destroyed at his feet. If the people he loved most in the world had only ever meant to use him, then he would use whoever he needed to, in turn. He would harden himself to everything, but most especially the love of other people. It wasn’t worth what you had to give up.

Loki sighed and repeated, “I’m telling you this because I like you.”

_I’ve changed,_ Thor had said to him as they’d fought in the Observatory, so few years ago and so many, as Loki’s grief and rage had been tearing him apart and the only thing to do had been to send all that destruction somewhere that deserved it, the place that had given birth to all his pain. As Jotunheim had crumbled under the force of the Bifrost, Loki had replied with a smile as hard and cold as ice:

_So have I_.

It had been true.

Maybe he’d kept changing, though. Maybe he’d actually changed for the better.

Kalmsh still looked upset. He went to sit on his bed, putting his face in his hands. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to be here, you know,” he said, his voice muffled.

The smart thing to do was to go. If he went now, they could both pretend this had never happened. Or blame it on too much wine, if they wanted to acknowledge that it had. To each other, obviously. Not to anyone else.

With a sigh, Loki went to sit next to him. The mattress barely depressed as he sat down, feeling just as rock hard as his own in the barracks. The perks of being an officer had their limits, apparently. He sat there awkwardly, his shoulders stiff. What was he supposed to say? _Do you want my sympathy? At least you’re fighting your own stupid planet’s stupid cause. Your people took me from the brother that I still hadn’t got used to having back._

But instead, he said, “If you don’t want to be here, then why are you?”

Kalmsh laughed bitterly. “Are you kidding? My family have all been generals going back a million years.”

“Your war’s been going on longer than I thought.”

Kalmsh glanced at Loki, caught the twitch of a crooked smile on his face, and sagged, some of his bitterness dissipating. “Five hundred years. It’s just expected. No one asked me what I wanted.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No. I wasn’t going to be the one to break five centuries of tradition.” Kalmsh paused and stared at his hands in his lap, tracing the line on one palm with a finger. Loki wondered what Kalmsh _did_ want. What was there on this planet except war? “And I think they knew—that is—I don’t know if you know, but here, on Preccat I mean, people like…” His eyes darted up to Loki, who waited. “People who do…what we were going to do…it’s not acceptable.”

“What a surprise,” Loki said dryly.

Meeting his eyes, Kalmsh asked, “Is it like that on your world?”

Loki hesitated. Then, he said, “My world is gone. My people have better things to care about. But there was a time…” He stopped, remembered being young and unsure and afraid of the opinions of others. “When I was young, some people cared, some people didn’t. I was lucky, though. My family didn’t. My brother…well, my brother has always been very…accepting.” Thor’s unquestioning acceptance of this basic fact about Loki had been the thing that had made him decide that it didn’t matter what people thought.

He’d never told Thor that.

“Must be nice,” Kalmsh said. “Having a family that loves you, no strings attached.” It was one of the hardest things Loki had ever done to not laugh at this, but he managed to keep a straight face. Mostly. If he snorted a little, who could blame him? But Kalmsh didn’t seem to notice. All he said was, “Where’s your brother now?”

“I’m not sure,” Loki answered honestly.

“Really?” Kalmsh said, sounding surprised. “I figured you were close.”

“He moves around a lot,” Loki said, ignoring the second part of what Kalmsh had said.

“I have a sister,” Kalmsh volunteered. “I think she knows that I’m…that I’m only interested in…and…anyway. It doesn’t matter to her. I miss her.” He glanced at Loki. “Do you miss your brother?”

No. Never.

Yes, of course, but it took a special situation to admit this fact out loud, and this was not that situation.

Loki studied Kalmsh’s face in profile. Instead of answering the question, he asked, “Why don’t you leave this planet? You don’t want to be in the military. You can’t be open about who you are. You’ll always fear discovery, no matter how much you think you’re accustomed to hiding. The galaxy is a big place and it wouldn’t be that hard to make a life for yourself somewhere else.” That was a lie. It _would_ be hard, but it would be worth it. And it wouldn’t be _as_ hard as the life that was stretching out in front of him here on Preccat.

Of course, this was advice that he could have easily given to himself, and his younger self would never have followed it. He wasn’t sure why he’d expect anything different from this young man.

Just as long as he didn’t ask Loki to be the one to take him away. His interest in Kalmsh wouldn’t sustain itself. Besides, _The Bifrost_ didn’t have room for a third passenger. Despite his pretensions to it, he wasn’t anyone’s savior.

Maybe Loki had made it clear that this wasn’t something even remotely in the realm of possibility, because Kalmsh didn’t suggest it. “I don’t think I can,” he finally said. Loki snorted softly but didn’t argue.

The two of them sat there in silence, the light buzzing overhead in the heat and the effects of the bad wine wearing off. There was still a part of Loki that _wanted_ to fuck Kalmsh. Er, besides the obvious part of him, that was. It would be nice for both of them and it had been a long time since he’d had that. But he knew it was a bad idea. So, with a sigh, he stood up, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it on.

Kalmsh watched him from hooded eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t. As he buttoned the shirt, Loki wondered if the other man would be staring quite so hungrily if all Loki’s scars weren’t glamored. Clearly, they liked scars on this planet, but Loki’s had been inflicted in a far different way than the decorative ones of Preccat. And of course, the physical ones paled in comparison to the emotional ones. He _knew_ Kalmsh wouldn’t be interested in those. A mysterious, handsome stranger was one thing. A self-loathing, confused, exiled prince of a homeless people was another, especially once you knew that he was currently the prince of New Asgard, Tønsberg, Norway, population 418, give or take a few.

“We’re deploying in six days,” Kalmsh said. Loki stopped mid-button and looked up at him. Still no eye contact. “A new front opened up. A town, Osccri. About five hundred kilometers from here. We can’t afford to lose it. But brass thinks the rebels will be easy to subdue.”

Slowly, Loki finished buttoning his shirt. “A test run, then?” Kalmsh finally looked up and nodded. Letting out a slow breath, Loki said. “Alright. Are any other battalions being sent there?”

“I don’t think so.”

That didn’t help him, then. Maybe he’d be going five hundred kilometers closer to Thor—but maybe he’d be five hundred kilometers further away. And of course, it wasn’t just Thor he needed, it was their ship. Thor would probably clap him on the shoulder and say they’d figure it out; everything would be fine. The important thing was that they were together. Loki had to fight the urge both to roll his eyes and to cry. The latter was melodramatic. It was just, he felt wrung out. And it was so _hot_.

Then, surprising him, Kalmsh said, “I can try to find out where they took the other man. That you came here with. If that’s what you really want to know?”

Loki looked at him sharply. “What makes you say that?”

Kalmsh was running a finger over his palm again. Instead of answering, he asked, “Is that man…I mean, are you two…” When Loki furrowed his brow in question, Kalmsh took a deep breath and asked in a rush, “Is he your lover?”

“ _What?_ ” Loki made a face. “Gods, no. No, we’re—no.” This was probably disappointing to Kalmsh, whose pride would no doubt have found it more palatable if he could tell himself the reason Loki hadn’t slept with him was because he had a lover somewhere else. To be honest, that would have probably been more palatable to Loki, as well, instead of the fact that he’d denied himself due to some nebulous nudging from his conscience.

“So you don’t want to know where he is?”

Loki hesitated. “I didn’t say that.”

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Loki could see the calculation flash through Kalmsh’s eyes. How badly did Loki want this information? What was he willing to give for it?

The answer to that question, of course, was just about anything, up to and including his life. Kalmsh was so innocent, so idealistic. The calculation was gone almost the minute it appeared, because he wouldn’t want sex to be a quid pro quo. He would want it to be _special_. Loki wasn’t against the idea, but somehow he’d never quite been able to put it into practice. He had too much of a tendency to fall in love with the wrong people. Or rather, he had a tendency to fall in love with people with whom he knew he had no chance.

The point was, if Kalmsh had announced that, in fact, he wanted Loki on his knees, or no further information would be forthcoming, Loki would have shrugged and done it.

That wouldn’t happen. Loki didn’t know if that made him respect Kalmsh less or more.

“I’ll find out,” Kalmsh said.

Loki stood there, then realized he was fidgeting with his hands. How long had he been doing that? After a moment, he said, “Alright.”

He hated when people were kind. It was impossible not to wonder when they were going to call in the thing that he knew they wanted. In the other universe, after he’d not-died, that had been one of the hardest things, people being _nice_ to him simply because they’d known another version of him who had earned it. They’d been stupid, thinking that just because at one time he’d been the same as the Loki they’d known, that he could be trusted.

The thought of them—of the other universe’s Stephen Strange in particular, the most recent example of falling in love with the wrong person—made him sad. The worst thing about erasing an entire universe from existence was that he was the only one who had to live with the pain of losing it.

“Thank you,” Loki said, when the silence began to stretch too long. He supposed he’d just let himself out, since Kalmsh didn’t seem inclined to get to his feet. Idiotically, he added, “You know where to find me when you learn anything.” Of course Kalmsh knew where to find him, because he was a literal prisoner in this horrible place. No matter how much of a prisoner Kalmsh felt like, it wasn’t the same.

A thought occurred to him. “There’s another thing you could do for me, if it’s possible.”

“What?” Kalmsh asked. It didn’t seem to occur to him to refuse.

Rubbing the hem of his shirt between his thumb and index finger, Loki said, “The clothes I had when I came here. Are they still here or were they destroyed?”

Kalmsh gave him a confused look. “Even if I could get them for you, where would you hide them?”

“I’ll worry about that. Can you get them?”

Kalmsh hesitated, then nodded. Loki jerked his head in thanks.

It was time to go. He glanced towards the door, then sighed in irritation and looked back to Kalmsh. “Get up,” he said. “And come here.” Looking startled, Kalmsh did as he was told. Well, Loki _had_ been a king for four years. He could be good at giving orders when he wanted to be.

As Kalmsh stopped in front of him, Loki said warningly, “Don’t read anything into this.” Then, he leaned down and kissed Kalmsh—gently, mostly for his own benefit, because the man had some of the softest lips he’d ever felt and because it was something nice. But also because Kalmsh deserved better than what this planet was ever going to give him. Better than what Loki could ever give him, also.

Kalmsh kissed him back but seemed to understand that there was nothing more to it. When Loki pulled away, he looked accepting.

“Your secret’s safe with me, by the way,” Loki said as he went to the door.

Kalmsh nodded and said, “Thanks,” quietly, and it was everything Loki could do not to scoff that Kalmsh had absolutely nothing to thank him for. Instead, he cracked the door open to make sure no one was outside to see him leave, then stepped out and closed it softly behind him. A simple spell would make sure no one noticed him on his way back to his barracks, and his unit wouldn’t remember him being gone at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to read! As always, I would love to know what you think of this fic!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another content warning for this chapter - war violence and all that entails.

The blast flung everyone off their feet. Dirt and rocks sprayed and Loki tumbled down a small hill, flopping on his stomach at the bottom. He spat out a mouthful of sand and pushed himself up with his arms—good, he still had both of them, and they still worked properly—keeping his body as low as possible. Another drone buzzed their position, dropping its payload, and there was another explosion.

There was a thud behind him and Loki glanced over his shoulder.

Well, whoever _that_ arm belonged to would not be having the happy realization that Loki had.

He reached for the rifle that was somehow still strapped to his back and waited. When the drone came around for another pass, he sighted along the barrel, squeezed the trigger, held off just a few seconds, and fired.

The energy blast slammed into the drone with a crack, sending it spiraling out of the sky in a plume of smoke until it crashed to the ground about two hundred feet away.

Slinging the rifle over his back again, he got to his feet, crouching as he climbed up the hill. Half of his battalion had been up there and he’d definitely recognized that arm as belonging to a man who’d been in the room next to his at Southern A Base. The rest of him might be up there, wondering what had happened to the arm…or he might be scattered at various points around the hillside.

When Loki reached the crest of the hill, staying low, he found Gunner setting up a laser cannon, with Oso, Evan, and Kaelrinn firing their rifles at advancing rebels. “Where are Daastyt and Kalmsh?” Loki asked. Gunner shrugged. The owner of the arm wasn’t up there either. Loki hoped vaguely that Daastyt wasn’t dead and a little less vaguely that Kalmsh wasn’t either, but there was no point in thinking about it now. He’d get distracted. And then they’d _all_ be dead. “What did they hit us with?”

“High explosive shell,” Gunner said in a clipped tone. “Went off too high. Could have done a lot more damage.”

Loki glanced around. There were bodies along the edge of the hill, some of them too mangled to tell who they’d once been. The ones he _could_ recognize weren’t Daastyt or Kalmsh. Over half the battalion was gone. “I admire you finding that silver lining,” Loki said.

Men from Unit 2 were setting up and firing at the advancing line. Unit 3 was supposed to be protecting their flank, but Loki couldn’t see them. “Hold this,” Gunner said, and Loki steadied the laser cannon. It had a nasty kick that usually knocked the base out from under it. That was fine during training, but when you had drones dropping bombs on you and a line of rebels that outnumbered your battalion about three to one, the last thing anyone needed to spend time on was resetting the cannon.

“Fire in the hole,” Gunner yelled cheerfully, before he charged, cocked, and fired the cannon.

The laser blast carved a line through the enemy ranks, leaving a much neater path of destruction than the bomb had done on Loki’s compatriots. Gunner fired again, but the rebel line had broken. Not, unfortunately, in a way that meant they were giving up, but in the way that rebel armies were meant to fight. Loki knew what was coming next. The rebels would surround the hillside, and the army, inflexible as armies always were, would stick to tactics that would just get men slaughtered.

Of course, this was an off-worlder battalion. Loki doubted anyone of rank cared what happened to them.

He hadn’t come this far on this terrible planet to be killed by a bunch of rebels, however just their fight might be.

Gunner was still firing the cannon, but Loki snapped at him, “Forget that, we have to get off this hill before they bring more drones.”

There was the sound of blaster fire from the other side of the hill and Loki glanced in that direction. It would be such a help if he could just create an army of illusions to trick the enemy into running the other way, but he’d managed to not use magic for over a month here, and he wasn’t going to get caught now.

After hesitating, Gunner packed up the laser cannon. Loki had already settled on a more defensible position. There was a stand of trees about a quarter of a mile away. If they could get there, they’d have cover from air attacks and something to stand behind while they shot. As Loki was explaining this to the remaining men in their battalion, Kalmsh and Daastyt appeared over the crest of the hill. Kalmsh was dragging Daastyt, whose arm was slung over the captain’s shoulder while his feet dragged. The Xandarian’s eyes were open but he didn’t seem to be seeing anything. Kaelrinn made a noise and went to take Daastyt off Kalmsh’s hands. Loki’s relief surprised him, and while he liked Daastyt well enough, it wasn’t the sight of him that had compelled it.

Loki didn’t waste time with the chain of command. He strode up to Kalmsh and said, “We’re falling back to those trees. They never should have put us up here, not when the enemy has air support.”

Gaping at Loki, Kalmsh said, “But—we have orders—”

“Do you want to die up here?” Loki demanded. “Look _around._ ” Kalmsh did. “You’re the only officer still standing,” Loki added urgently.

Kalmsh’s mouth was still hanging open as he took in the depleted battalion. But then, he turned back, a decisive look in his eyes. “You’re right,” he said.

Well, obviously, but it was nice for that fact to be recognized. Kalmsh shouted orders and the remaining members of the battalion moved. Gunner had the laser cannon propped on his shoulder. They’d move faster without it, but if they abandoned it, the enemy would put it to good use. They’d move faster without Daastyt, too, but Kaelrinn wouldn’t leave him behind, and Kalmsh wouldn’t tell him to.

As they scrambled and slid down the hill, Loki counted nineteen men. Nineteen, out of their battalion of sixty. There was no way Kalmsh’s superiors hadn’t known about the air support. They just hadn’t cared. There was a way to fight wars on Preccat and that was what the military had stuck to, with unimpressive results, for five hundred years. Of course, it had to be said, the rebels hadn’t managed to win, either.

This was idiotic. Norns, he _hated_ this place. If he was smart, he’d glamor himself to look like a rebel right now, slip away from his doomed battalion, and…what? He didn’t know where Thor was. Removing himself from his battalion would be removing himself from his best chance of _finding_ Thor.

Fine. He would stay. He would stay because it was the fastest way to being reunited with his brother. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t want to abandon these men who had been strangers to him five weeks ago in the middle of a battle.

They were halfway to the stand of trees when a group of rebels came boiling out of a trench, howling and firing their weapons. “Hold your positions!” Kalmsh ordered. It was a testament to his ability to command his men that all of them actually did it, raising their guns to their shoulders without being told. Even Loki. Kalmsh held out a hand, wordlessly telling them to hold their fire.

There was a long, long moment while the rebels closed, and the remaining nineteen men of Southern A Battalion waited, their breathing loud. Loki found his target and squeezed his finger on the trigger, breathing easily, wishing he could tell Evan to calm down. The human was practically hyperventilating next to him.

“Fire,” Kalmsh said. His voice was flatly calm, fatalistic. Had he known, deep down, that being given command of an off-worlder unit would result in this type of hopeless last stand? Kalmsh was a brave man, probably braver than he gave himself credit for.

Streaks of purple energy tore into the rebels running towards them. Half found their marks, but the rebels kept coming. Kalmsh shouted to fire at will, but in a few seconds, the enemy soldiers were on them.

The risk of hitting one of his own battalion with friendly fire was too great. Loki took one more shot at a rebel, hitting him in the stomach and dropping him where he stood, before spinning and using his gun as a club on a rebel that had come up from behind. And then, for good measure, he smashed the face of a man who was about to blow Evan’s head open.

He saw a huge man swinging a fist just in time. Loki broke the force of the blow with his rifle, but the rebel grabbed it. The two of them wrestled with it for a moment. Then, Loki let go, sending the man stumbling back, and his daggers flashed as they appeared in his hands. Leaping forward, he stabbed the man on both sides of his throat.

Blood fountained out of the man’s carotid artery as his hands flailed, but Loki was already turning away, red spray coming off his daggers as he ducked another rebel and jammed a blade between his armor and through his ribs.

Loki knew he’d just tipped his hand. The rebels would now mark him as a greater danger than the others in his battalion. The first two, he’d taken unawares with his knives. The rest of them would be ready.

At least, they thought they’d be ready.

Loki flipped a knife in the air and caught it, smiling slightly. And when two men charged him at once, he wound his wrist and flung one dagger, finding his mark in one of their throats. The other rebel broke off to come at Loki from the side, but Loki whirled on the ball of his foot, diving to the ground and slashing at the man’s hamstrings.

Screaming, the rebel went down. Loki sunk the dagger into his chest and yanked it out without stopping, tucking the blade in as he somersaulted and righted himself next to the man who’d learned the hard way that Loki’s aim was impeccable. Grabbing that knife, he spun around, taking out a rebel that had tried to come at him from behind.

This would all look _so_ much better if his hair was still long.

When he pulled his dagger out of his latest victim’s larynx, he paused, breathing heavily, and looked around. The fight was over. The remaining rebels were fleeing and Kalmsh didn’t give the order to give chase. The captain held two fingers to his ear, listening to his comm, and then he said with relief, “Southern B is coming in with reinforcements. Brass is ordering us to hold the treeline.”

They’d lost three men in the fight, but Daastyt was still alive and seemed to be coming around as they fell back to the trees. Loki wiped his blades on the ground once they were under cover of the branches and then on his pants to take care of the remaining blood. Several men were staring at him, open-mouthed. _Well_ , he wanted to ask, _what were you expecting? You all know I’m Asgardian_. This was the reason Ashta had been sent away for beating the shit out of him, because someone, somewhere on this planet had an inkling of what he could do in battle. It may even have been Vice Admiral Shuvt.

The electronic whine of disrupter and laser fire drifted towards their position, but no rebels came their way. Within the hour, the sounds had stopped, and Kalmsh held his hand up to his ear again as he listened to his comm.

“They surrendered,” he said, sounding as though he couldn’t believe it. “Osccri is ours. They’re opening the town to us.”

A few of the men gave a ragged cheer, but most of them were silent as they trudged back to camp. They’d lost almost seventy-five percent of their battalion, plus every captain except Kalmsh. The sun was getting lower in the sky. It hadn’t occurred to Loki until that moment that the afternoon heat he’d become accustomed to at Southern A Base wasn’t as stifling here. The battle would have been unbearable in that heat. As it was, his uniform was sticking to his back under his armor.

Kaelrinn was still supporting Daastyt and the two of them made their way towards their tents. The rest of the men stood, looking shell-shocked, before drifting away. It wasn’t the first time Loki had thought about it, but he wondered how many of these men had ever seen any kind of formal combat before Preccat. The ones who had survived looked like they’d never experienced anything like what had just happened.

Maybe it wasn’t great that Loki was so desensitized to taking lives. It wasn’t as though he _enjoyed_ it, but he _was_ used to it. When someone was trying to kill him, he didn’t have any qualms about killing them first.

“Shit,” Oso muttered, looking around at their decimated battalion.

Kalmsh was looking a little lost himself, but he took a breath, snapped out of it, and said, “Fandral, could I have a word?” 

Oso looked at Loki and grimaced, but Gunner looked delighted. Leave it to Gunner to have blood smeared all over his face and look as though Yuletide had come early. The two of them and Evan stood there until Kalmsh added, “ _Just_ Fandral.” Loki nodded to them, trying to look stoic.

What was _this_ about? The daggers obviously weren’t regulation, nor would the army have allowed him to keep them if they’d known about them. Or continue to keep them, if Kalmsh chose to tell them.

As they walked away, Kalmsh said, just a little too loudly, “You undermined my authority back there. We had orders. You disobeyed them.”

Loki studied Kalmsh, his eyes narrowed, trying to decide if this was real and how to respond even if it wasn’t. The volume of the captain’s voice implied he wanted to be overhead for show. The question was, who was the show for?

He glanced over his shoulder at Oso, Evan, and Gunner, who all looked relieved. Better a chiding about insubordination than carrying a non-regulation weapon, which he’d been keeping hidden for the duration of their training. Clearly, they’d thought this conversation was going to be about the knives. “My intention wasn’t to undermine your authority, sir,” Loki said.

Kalmsh stood up straighter and said, “I can’t just let this go, Fandral. Come with me. If you’re lucky, you’ll just end up with latrine duty for the next month.”

“Sir,” Loki said, keeping his face expressionless. He very much doubted that this conversation was going to be about him countermanding orders. Of course, he had, and of course, that was technically insubordination. But he’d been right. And he’d saved what was left of the battalion. Kalmsh knew that and he’d never struck Loki as someone who thought being commissioned made him correct by default. So what was he up to?

The two of them began walking across the field. Southern B was returning from the battlefield, too, looking far more cheerful than Southern A had. Most of their battalion was intact. They hadn’t been ordered to hold an idiotic position during an air bombardment.

Dusk was falling and the air was still, full of dust from a storm the previous night. The sunset was even yellower than usual. The particles in the air were elongating it, though. Loki had never been on a world where the sun set as quickly as Preccat, or where the light could go so quickly from day to night. There usually wasn’t a dusk to speak of. Like dusks everywhere, it improved the aesthetic of the camp.

When they were out of earshot of anyone else, Kalmsh said, “I found your friend.”

Loki’s steps didn’t falter, even though his breath did ever-so-slightly. He didn’t look at Kalmsh. Before they’d deployed, Kalmsh had come by the barracks with a bundle of clothes. He’d timed it so that Loki was alone—or waited until he was alone. It doubtless wasn’t something he’d left to chance. So Loki had his leathers back, hidden in his pocket dimension. There hadn’t been any information about Thor to go along with the clothes. Not then.

“Hogun, right?” When Loki nodded, Kalmsh said, “He’s up north. At the front.”

Glancing at him, Loki said, “Another front?” There was blood smeared all over Kalmsh’s face. Some of it was coming from a gash running from his temple to his chin, but some of it had come from elsewhere. One of his uniform sleeves was torn too, and blood was splattered across it. It might have been Daastyt’s.

For the first time, it occurred to Loki to look down at his own uniform. It was soaked in blood. Was any of it his? He didn’t think so, but there’d been shrapnel when the bomb had gone off above them. He could feel nicks on his scalp and a cut on his eyebrow.

“This whole world is nothing but different fronts,” Kalmsh said in a low tone. Loki nodded. Kalmsh hesitated, then he said, “I asked for us to be sent there.”

Loki’s heart did something unbecoming, leaping in his chest with happiness, anticipation, and relief. “And?” he said, his tone bland.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the distance, Kalmsh said, “The order hasn’t come through yet, officially. Unofficially—” He hesitated. “You can’t say anything.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Loki asked, smiling a little.

At this, Kalmsh looked at him. Loki turned his head and met his eyes. “Do a lot of people trust you?”

Loki’s smile grew a little more sardonic. “‘A lot’ is such a strong way of putting it.” Then, he let the smile drop off his face and said, “I’m good at keeping secrets. You know that.”

With a nod, Kalmsh said, “We should be shipping out within a week.” They reached the edge of the field and stood there, neither of them saying anything while the shadows grew long. The smell of smoke hung in the air from the army encampment behind them, and a more chemical smell from elsewhere. The town they’d just ‘liberated’ (Kalmsh’s superiors’ word, not Kalmsh’s, let alone Loki’s) refined petroleum, making plastics and solvents. It was the reason the military couldn’t allow the rebels to hold it. Far too many plastics used in war.

“How long has the fighting been going on there?” Loki finally asked.

“Years.” Kalmsh’s face looked bleak. “The northern front chews up units. Officers lose soldiers there. People lose friends.” Loki glanced at him, wondering if that included Kalmsh, but it was impossible to tell if he was speaking from personal experience or just what he’d heard. He was so young, Captain Kalmsh. No doubt he’d seen more than he should have, but there were horrors in the universe that he couldn’t even imagine. Loki hoped, for his sake, that it stayed that way.

Without discussion, the two of them turned to go back to camp. As they started back, Kalmsh said, “You were amazing out there this afternoon, by the way. Fighting, I mean.” His ears were darkening again in embarrassment and Loki smiled, not unkindly. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that in hand-to-hand combat. You probably saved what was left of the battalion.”

Saying this out loud seemed to bring home the fact that most of the men he’d been overseeing for the past month were dead. His expression froze, then he shook himself. Couldn’t let himself get hung up on their deaths, could he? War was war. Men died. And Preccat had a good system now—just bring more of them in from off-world. The galaxy was a big place, there would always be plenty of replacement bodies.

Loki shrugged. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Leave no man behind, or something trite along those lines?”

“Brass doesn’t expect off-worlder soldiers to care enough about anyone for that,” Kalmsh said. “I’d recommend you for commendation, but then I’d have to mention the knives.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Loki said. “I’d like to keep them, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I figured.”

Looking at Kalmsh, Loki added, “And no offense, but considering how long this war has been going on, my opinion of the military leadership’s abilities isn’t, shall we say, particularly elevated.”

Kalmsh laughed, then sobered. “We could both get in serious trouble for you saying that.”

With a snort, Loki replied, “Doubtful. I’ve just showed myself to be the most deadly soldier in this battalion.”

“ _I_ could get in serious trouble.”

“Then I advise you not to tell anyone that I said it,” Loki said. The two of them walked in silence. What Kalmsh had said about the northern front had been niggling at Loki. ‘The northern front chews up units.’ Thor could obviously take care of himself, but his ability to do so had been greatly diminished when he’d lost the ability to summon lightning. Loki had his magic if push came to shove. Thor only had his strength.

He almost snorted at himself. Right. Thor _only_ had his strength. That was sort of like saying Thanos had _only_ had two Infinity Stones when he’d destroyed _The Statesman_.

Still, he had to ask. Employing his most disinterested tone, Loki said, “Did you happen to hear how my friend is?”

Glancing at him, Kalmsh said, “I heard he’s incredible on the battlefield, too. Can all Asgardians fight like that?”

Loki considered his answer. The best lies had some truth to them. “No,” he said. “We all know how to fight, but some of us train more.”

Kalmsh seemed to accept this. On the other hand, there was no way that he didn’t suspect that Loki was lying about who he was. Not, of course, that he suspected Loki’s actual identity—Kalmsh knew next to nothing about Asgard, but he wasn’t stupid and it ought to be obvious by now that Loki was more than a weapons dealer.

“I wish I could see it,” Kalmsh said. “Asgard. I guess I should have tried during the Blip. That was the only time I could have gotten out of here.”

“Mm.” Loki stared into the distance. “I suppose things were as confused here as they were anywhere else.”

Shrugging, Kalmsh said, “We stopped fighting for awhile.”

The two of them stopped some distance from their unit’s campfire, close enough that it didn’t look odd for the two of them to be talking, far enough that Oso and the rest couldn’t hear them. They stood in silence. Then, Loki said, “Thank you. I’m not sure why you’re helping me. But thank you.”

Kalmsh looked at the ground. “You know why I’m helping you.”

Loki looked at him, but Kalmsh’s eyes stayed downcast. “I think there’s more to it than that, actually,” Loki said. It was funny. Kalmsh was nothing like him, and yet, there was something that reminded Loki so much of his younger self—his isolation, the way he kept himself hidden, his sense of not belonging. But Kalmsh was a better person than Loki had ever been. That was why he was helping—he was decent.

Though, yes. The crush helped.

Glancing at his captain, Loki said, “Are you joining us for dinner? It’s everyone’s favorite tonight, brown sludge with a hint of pulverized vegetables.”

Kalmsh laughed. It sounded a little uncontrolled. The shock from the battle was beginning to wear off. Kalmsh’s eyes took in the bloodstains covering Loki as though he was seeing them for the first time, and then he looked at his own uniform.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured. Loki had never heard him swear. “Fucking hell…”

Reaching out to grip Kalmsh’s shoulder—in a way that looked suitably manly, in case any other Preccat were watching—Loki said, “I know.”

Kalmsh’s eyes looked wild, but then he met Loki’s gaze. He supposed he could have gone on—how the first time, or even the fifth time, you went into battle, it didn’t hit you until later what had happened. How many people had died in front of you, how many you’d killed yourself. If you were a good person, it didn’t get easier. Maybe if you were a good person, you managed to stay out of war altogether. Most of the battles Loki had fought in had been for what he’d thought were good reasons. Just reasons, even. Protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves, putting down rebellions. But there was blood on his hands. He’d been fighting Asgard’s battles for just over four hundred years. There was a _lot_ of blood on his hands.

On Asgard, of course, no one saw it that way. Loki didn’t even know if _he_ saw it that way. Death in glorious battle got you into Valhalla, after all. But there were other ways, and this planet’s endless war, with his front row seat to it, made him weary of fighting. He’d never liked it all that much to begin with. Thor had been baffled by his lack of interest in battle, then embarrassed, and finally, grudgingly accepting. When Loki had shown himself to be a keen planner, far more interested in strategizing than slicing people open, that had helped, too.

“I know,” Loki repeated. Then, he squeezed Kalmsh’s shoulder. “Have dinner with us.”

Kalmsh drew in a breath, gathering himself. The wild look in his eyes receded. He nodded.

There was an unspoken part to Loki’s invitation. Join them for dinner, because they were going to the northern front. In two weeks, there might not be a unit to eat dinner together anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my continued thanks for everyone for reading this! Feedback is my lifeblood so if you have the inclination to leave some, I would love to hear what you think so far! 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	14. Chapter 14

They shipped out a week later, right on schedule. No one else in the unit knew anything about the northern front. Loki didn’t tell them what Kalmsh had said about it. The week gave most of them time to recover from whatever injuries they’d sustained in battle. Everyone was more banged up than they’d first realized. Daastyt had mostly recovered by the time they boarded the trucks that would take them north. He’d hit his head in the blast that had taken out most of the battalion, but he was alive, and more or less himself, so that made him lucky.

Luckier than the forty-four men and nine officers who had been lost on the hilltop, at least. The bodies had been gathered up by captured rebels, thrown in a pile, and set on fire, as per Preccat custom.

Afterwards, the rebels had been executed and left to rot where they fell on the ground.

Loki was quiet as the trucks took them north. Gunner was quiet too, but for all Loki knew, it was because he was planning a murder.

It took three days to cover the distance to the northern front. The first day had been all cross country, across the empty, unpopulated terrain that Loki had grown used to. But by day two, they’d pulled onto a network of roads and the miles passed more quickly.

The heat faded from the air, so that at night when they got out to pitch their tents, the rest of the unit was shivering. Loki wasn’t. The chill in the air was a relief after so much time in the south. He’d probably lost thirty pounds in sweat alone over the last month.

“How are you not freezing?” Evan asked on the second night, his teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“It’s invigorating,” Loki said with a small smile.

Finally, as dusk was falling on the third day, they arrived at the front.

It looked more like a city than a camp: city of tents, with smoke on the air from campfires, lights and laundry strung on wires. They passed cluster after cluster after cluster of tents, on and on for miles, all behind tall fencing topped by razor wire. There must have been, by Loki’s estimate, thirty thousand troops here.

How in the hel was he going to find Thor in all this?

One thing was for sure—he didn’t plan on being deployed on this front. Thirty thousand troops or no, he needed to find Thor and he needed to find him quickly. Tonight.

His resolve hardened. It had to be tonight.

A feeling of mingled gratitude and confusion flickered through him. Kalmsh had asked for them to be sent here, despite knowing he might lose his own life, not to mention the lives of his men. And he surely suspected, if not outright knew, that the natural outcome of reuniting ‘Fandral’ and ‘Hogun’ was both Asgardians’ desertion from the Preccat army. He would never understand Kalmsh. Crush or no crush, this wasn’t the kind of treatment he was used to.

He had no explanation for it. But he knew when he’d been given a gift.

The seven of them set up their tents in the deepening twilight. There were too many men at the front for a lowly captain to be quartered with other officers, so Kalmsh’s tent was pitched with the rest of theirs. Evan got a fire started and they ate their rations. None of them said very much. Seeing the number of troops there had brought home the seriousness of their situation.

As the fire burned lower, the unit dispersed to their tents. Loki unrolled his sleeping bag. He needed to find Thor and he still hadn’t decided how to do it. It wasn’t that late, but it was going to take time and effort to get out of here. They would need the cover of darkness to aid their escape.

He chewed at his lip, then sat down on his sleeping bag. He could astral project himself and cover the entire encampment within a few hours. It was a risk, because someone might look up and focus too closely on his form flitting through the air. But it was easily his best option.

Loki took a breath and closed his eyes, drawing his magic inside himself into a tight ball and then flinging it up and out.

His astral form hovered over his tent and from there he sped off. At campfire after campfire he stopped, looking and listening for his brother, or any mention of someone who demonstrated godlike strength and fighting prowess, blah blah blah. He heard a lot of banal conversations and boasting and saw some contraband alcohol, not to mention some contraband women.

It took an hour, but finally, three battalions over, he caught the end of a sentence, “—glad we got Hogun with us, I’ll tell you that.”

Loki’s form stopped and spun around as he listened to another man say, “You know, I heard the new unit that came in today has an Asgardian with them, too?”

That was enough. He noted the path he’d taken to get here, repeating the turns he’d need to take in his head several times. Everything looked the same; it would be easy to get lost. Strange’s photographic memory would be useful right about now. Then, before anyone noticed him, he opened his eyes in his tent, instantly calling his astral form back to himself. 

It returned to his body with a mental snap. For a moment, nothing felt quite real. He flexed his fingers and breathed. This would require a plan. He couldn’t just stroll over there. Well, he could, but the two of them wouldn’t be able to stroll out. This front had been here a long time and it had become a serious operation. That fencing and razor wire along the road wasn’t just to keep out the enemy. Desertion would be an issue—a major temptation—on a world with never-ending war. The nearby airfield was heavily guarded, too, as were all the ground transport vehicles.

That was where they needed to go. The airfield. A truck would do nothing for them; they’d be caught within the day. If they could break into the airfield, though, they could steal a ship. The challenge would be finding theirs, when Loki had no idea where on the planet it had been brought—and presumably Thor didn’t either.

He narrowed his eyes, staring at the side of the tent without seeing it. And then, it hit him, and it was so obvious that he laughed. The easiest way to sneak two men out of a well-guarded and well-patrolled army encampment was not to sneak two men out at all. He smiled, then went to peek outside to see if any of his unit was still out there.

There was a dark form wrapped in a blanket silhouetted against the fire, sitting alone. Loki stared and sighed. After everything, he needed to say good-bye. It was the least he could do. He opened the tent flap, ducking through the opening and making his way to the fire. His feet crunched on the frosty grass. As he sat down on an empty camp chair next to Kalmsh, he asked, “Cold, Captain?”

Kalmsh looked at him, took in the fact that Loki was wearing nothing but his uniform, and said, “Aren’t you?”

To be honest, a bit, but it was such a relief after the desert that he didn’t mind. Loki shifted, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other. “Oh, I was born for this weather.”

This seemed to horrify Kalmsh, so he didn’t speak, instead reaching down and picking up a bottle of wine that had been leaning against his chair. He held it out to Loki, who took it with a nod of thanks and took a swig.

There was a long silence. In the distance, a cheer went up. If he closed his eyes, he could be on Ria, or Vanaheim, or Alfheim, or any of the Nine Realms. Maybe not Muspelheim. The Preccat desert had more in common with Muspelheim than this part of the planet.

The stars weren’t quite the same here. They’d come at least two thousand miles north. He tried to find the constellations he’d picked out a month ago on his way to the base. And then, because he never learned, he tried to pick out the black space where Asgard should have been. In the other universe, he’d still been able to see Asgard. Once he’d come back here, there had been no point in looking for it, its absence notwithstanding. Stars were barely visible in New York. Jane had pointed out one of Earth’s neighboring planets and told him someday, she’d bring him out to New Mexico, where the nights were pitch black and the sky was as wide as it got anywhere on Earth.

“This time,” Jane had said, “maybe just don’t destroy any towns.”

“No promises,” Loki had replied.

He didn’t particularly like acknowledging that he missed anyone on Earth, but if he was going to, Jane Foster was a strong contender for the honor.

There was something in the sky that Loki didn’t recognize—far too big and bright for a star, not big enough for a moon, which he already knew Preccat didn’t have. A planet, perhaps? It hung there, looking not that much smaller than Preccat’s sun, glowing a steady, bright blue-white. Its illumination was enough to cast shadows. It most certainly hadn’t ever been visible from Southern A Base. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing towards it.

Kalmsh’s eyes followed the line of Loki’s arm. “That’s Tecca. It’s the closest planet to Preccat.”

“How close?” Loki asked, blinking.

“I don’t know. About three million miles?” Kalmsh said.

Imagine that. There _was_ something vaguely interesting about this planet, though it clearly hadn’t been interesting enough to include in the lessons where he’d first learned of Preccat. He wondered if it was habitable and what its orbit looked like, since it hadn’t been visible until now. Then, he decided he didn’t really care.

The two of them lapsed into silence. The fire spit. Kalmsh shifted, his chair creaking in the cold. “What’s your real name?” he asked quietly.

“Fandral,” Loki said without looking away from the sky.

There was another silence. Loki looked over at Kalmsh. He’d burrowed deeper into his blanket. “You don’t have to lie anymore. I’m not going to turn you in.” Kalmsh paused. “I never would have turned you in.”

Loki snorted. “What makes you think there’s anything to turn me in for?”

“You’re not supposed to be drinking any alcohol,” Kalmsh said, smiling a little. Loki almost put a hand to his heart with pride. Was that his poor, flustered, lovestruck captain, actually _joking_ with him?

Taking another drink from the bottle, Loki said, “It’s better if you don’t know my name.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, you’re going to have to come up with a good story for how I managed to desert, and it doesn’t look quite so bad for you if I’m just a run-of-the-mill Asgardian called Fandral.”

Kalmsh pushed the blanket away from his face and stared. It was easy to see the calculus on his face. Pursue the name issue, the admission that Loki _wasn’t_ a run-of-the-mill Asgardian, or the fact that he had just announced his intentions to desert? Saying any of the three aloud might have been a miscalculation on Loki’s part, but he was in a good mood tonight, and it would be nice to have a friend for a few minutes.

In the end, Kalmsh didn’t remark on any of it. Instead, what he said was, “Since when do you trust me enough to tell me any of that?”

Loki paused before he took another mouthful of wine. It was as bad as it had been the first time he’d had it. He stood by what he’d thought then, that it tasted better on someone else’s mouth. He’d just have to take the memory of Kalmsh’s lips and the feeling of the captain’s hard muscles under his palms as consolation. Or possibly drink more wine, since it probably would get better if he had enough of it. “I don’t, really,” he said. Then, raising an eyebrow, he added, “But I like you, and that’s always had to suffice for the people around me.”

Making a noise, Kalmsh got to his feet and shuffled away from the fire towards his tent. When he was behind Loki’s chair, he stopped. “Will I see you again?”

Loki hesitated, staring into the fire. It was burning down, the wood glowing orange and red, flames sputtering out now and then from some deep well of heat within all that charcoal. “Probably not,” he finally said. Regret and relief twined together in his chest and he didn’t know which one to feel.

He’d go with relief. It made more sense.

There was a silence, then the sound of Kalmsh walking away. Loki leaned forward and put the bottle down, then rested his elbows on his legs. “But I hope you get off this planet,” he murmured, once he was sure Kalmsh wouldn’t hear him.

He toed the bottle of wine. There was still a little bit sloshing around at the bottom. Well, what the hel. Raising the bottle in a toast to who knew what—the end of his military service here on Preccat? The men he was leaving behind? A young captain whom he couldn’t help, though he’d surprised himself by wanting to?

Perhaps all of the above.

He drank down the rest of the wine, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then returned to his tent to transform in peace.

* * *

It was striking how army encampments looked the same both through history and through the galaxy. Despite Preccat’s relative technological advancement, here they all were, sitting around campfires. Each fire scattered across the hills and fields pricked in the dark, flames sputtering and sparks drifting into the air, tents visible only as black blots around the light.

Loki strolled through the encampment, black hair cascading down his—rather her—back, as her hips swiveled. She was maybe overdoing it there, but it was hard to care, since she looked incredible. Between the constant sweating, the hair being hacked off, the dust, the blood, the rough living, looking incredible was a treat. She hadn’t ever laid eyes on a Preccat woman up close, so she hadn’t glamored any extra touches to her appearance, but it was dark and none of the soldiers she passed seemed confused. Apparently she looked the part she was trying to play, anyway, since as she strolled past the nearest campfire, several men whistled shrilly while a few of the others propositioned her at volume. Glancing over at them, she winked and called, “Maybe later, boys.”

Ridiculous. A complete stranger, _obviously_ not a soldier since Preccat didn’t allow women into the military, was walking in plain view through a camp at the front lines, and no one, _no one_ , was alarmed by this. Women weren’t worth paying attention to, especially not the kind of women who would walk through a military camp at night.

She’d known this would work.

It didn’t take long to find Thor’s tent. Everything looked different on the ground than it had from the air, but she’d been able to retrace her steps. Once she got to the right campfire, she had to ask someone, who decided in exchange for helping her, he could put an unsolicited hand on her backside. A real charmer. Thor better not have been friends with this one.

She gave him a hard smile, put her hand on his temple, and he dropped like a stone, unconscious.

When she pushed her way into Thor’s tent, her brother was trimming his beard with a ridiculously small pair of scissors and a tiny, dirty mirror. His eyes met Loki’s in the mirror and he almost stabbed the scissors into his face. “Um,” he said, turning around, fumbling with the mirror, and getting to his feet. He dropped the scissors on the floor, bent to pick them up, then added, “Hello. Uh, I didn’t ask for…I think you’re in the wrong tent—”

Loki wanted to hug him but instead, with a flick of her fingers, she transformed to her male form. “It’s _me_ , for heaven’s sake,” he hissed. “Honestly, do you really think tales of your physical prowess have spread so far that women on planets you’ve never even heard of are lining up to throw themselves at you?” In an aggrieved tone, he added, “Anyway, I would have thought you’d _recognize_ me; we haven’t been apart _that_ long.”

There was a long, long silence. Thor stared at him.

“Hello, brother,” Loki added, in case this had been too biting of a greeting.

“Loki?” Thor asked incredulously.

“It looks that way. Doesn’t it? Give me that mirror.” 

Thor ignored this. “How did you get here? How did you find me?”

“Ground transport,” Loki said, knowing full well this wasn’t what Thor meant. “And brother, I listen. I hear things. That’s why people say I’m the smart one.” He arched an eyebrow. “I know you said you’d find me, but I got tired of waiting.”

The two of them stood there looking at each other. Then Thor snorted and said, “Nice hair.”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki snapped.

“Seriously, it looks good.”

“Thor, _shut up_.” Despite this, Loki felt a stupid smile trying to creep onto his face. But then, he cleared his throat and said, “We have to go. They’re going to notice we’re gone before long, and I want to be at that airfield by the time they do.”

“Airfield?” Thor asked. “What?”

Sighing in exasperation, Loki said, “Surely you know it’s there? How long have you been here? I only got here a few hours ago and I noticed it. If we can break in there, we can steal a ship and get off this planet.”

Looking at Loki like he’d just grown a second head, Thor said, “Great plan. I only see one problem with it. We’re here and there’s no way to get out of this camp without being seen. There are guards all around the perimeter, and—” But he stopped, noticing, finally, the way Loki was smiling at him. “Wait. You’re not going to—”

“Why not? It worked for me.” 

“It worked for you because when you look like a woman, you _are_ a woman!” Thor said. “I can’t—how am I supposed to pretend?”

“My magic is _easily_ up to the task of glamoring away your hulking masculinity,” Loki said with a flick of his fingers. When Thor still looked doubtful, Loki added innocently, “You’ll be lovely, I’m sure. Did you have a preference on hair color?”

“I’m not concerned about being pretty,” Thor said. “I’m concerned about getting stopped and questioned.”

Well, _this_ was a role reversal. For once, Loki was the one with a poorly-thought-out plan and Thor was the one urging caution. Of course, Loki’s plan wasn’t quite as poorly-thought-out as it seemed. “We won’t be stopped,” Loki said. “And if we are, it will be because someone wants to buy our services. That’s easy enough to make them forget. No one here has any idea I can do magic. We stick to the main paths until we get to the airfield.”

“And then what?” Thor asked. “Have you seen the wall around it?”

“No,” Loki admitted.

“It’s a pretty serious wall.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I’m a pretty serious sorcerer.”

Thor looked at him. Loki stared back, wondering if Thor would discount the fact that magic could get them out of this. There was a long history between them of Thor dismissing Loki’s sorcery. It was a talent he couldn’t understand, didn’t share, and which he saw as suspect. At least, he always had in the past. Things had changed between them after Sakaar. Maybe this had, too.

Thor nodded. “Alright.”

Loki’s mouth opened to argue, but then he realized what Thor had said and he snapped it shut. A smile flashed across Thor’s face, as though he knew exactly what had just gone through Loki’s mind. _I trust you, brother_ , Thor had said to him before he’d manually calculated the jump that had brought their ship to Asgard. Maybe he’d meant it.

With a nod in return, Loki lifted a hand and twisted his wrist. This was unnecessary, but he’d begun doing it as a courtesy to the people around him in Asgard who hadn’t liked his magic. Now it was habit. Plus, there was a certain flair to it. A green line of magic ran from Thor’s head to his feet, leaving a woman standing there in his place. Loki completed his own transformation and then said quietly, “Let’s go.”

The two of them peeked out of the tent. A few of Thor’s cohorts were still around the campfire. The one that had grabbed Loki’s arse was coming around while the others laughed at him for getting drunk. Loki sent a spell their way to make blind them to the fact that two women were walking out when only one had gone in. Then, Loki jerked her head and they slipped out, walked past the fire, and headed for the camp’s main thoroughfare.

“I should have said good-bye,” Thor said quietly.

Loki shrugged. “Send them a postcard.” She knew it was ridiculous, but it bothered her that Thor had given even this slightest of indications that he had formed attachments to these people. Of course he had. He was Thor. Even Loki felt some affection for her unit. It wasn’t as though Thor wanted to stay here fighting with them.

At least, she didn’t think he did.

But then again, Thor had preferred to stay imprisoned as a gladiator on Sakaar rather than joining Loki at the Grandmaster’s side. As much as she wished these wounds would heal, they were slow to. It had been almost seven years ago for Thor, but even if it hadn’t, Thor had always had a tendency to underestimate how his actions and words wounded Loki. He let things go so easily and Loki was the opposite. Much less time had passed for Loki, but even if it hadn’t, she doubted seven years would be enough.

This obviously wasn’t the time to bring it up, though.

“You do _want_ to leave this place, don’t you?” Loki asked.

Thor looked at her. Gods, even as a woman, that dumbfounded look was unmistakable. “You’re joking.”

“Well, you seem so broken up about the fact that you left without saying _good-bye_ ,” Loki said, sneering despite her best efforts.

Two Preccat men walked by them, leering, but Loki ignored them and so did Thor. The men looked disgruntled but let them pass. When they were gone, Thor turned to her and hissed, “Of course I want to leave here, don’t be _stupid_. Why are you bringing this up now? We’re supposed to be concentrating on _getting out of here._ ”

She scowled but didn’t say anything. Thor grabbed her arm and stopped her. Loki yanked her arm out of her brother’s hold. They glared at each other, but then a group of men came stumbling down the road towards them, obviously drunk. It snapped both of them out of it. “Let’s go,” Loki muttered.

They didn’t speak again until they got within sight of the airfield wall. Thor had been right. It was a pretty serious wall.

“So?” Thor asked quietly. “Think you can get through that?”

As the two of them slipped off the road, Loki replied simply, “Yes.”

The wall was at least ten meters high, made of concrete, topped by razor wire, and lit by floodlights at regular intervals. Soldiers patrolled it, carrying large rifles. She knew they were called Type III Laser Rifles, but she’d always think of them as Asgardian killers.

Loki and Thor approached the wall in a place that was between two floodlights, then waited in the shadows of a tent until the nearest soldier had walked away. Wordlessly, Loki cast a spell, making both of them not exactly invisible, but forgettable. If one of the guards really focused, they’d see through it, but Loki didn’t need long to get past it.

She jerked her head at Thor and the two of them walked swiftly to the wall. “I don’t suppose you know how thick this is?” Loki asked.

“No.” Thor looked alarmed. “Do you need to know that?”

Loki smiled in a way that wasn’t meant to be comforting. “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine.” She put her hand on the wall, splaying her fingers, and concentrated. Her magic gathered in a nebulous place behind her eyes, and then she sent the energy down through her arm, through her fingers, and into the wall. It flowed between the molecules of the cement and the wall shimmered green as they separated, thinning and spreading so far apart that they no longer formed a solid object. “Go,” she said.

Thor hesitated but ducked into it. He passed through and then Loki followed.

It was darker on the other side. Loki lifted the glamor from Thor as a shimmer of green passed over the spot on the wall they’d just walked through. Thor glanced over his shoulder at it, then said, his tone a bit gruff, “Nice work.”

Loki hesitated, but then said, “Thanks.” The two of them stood there in the deep shadow of the wall, watching for patrolling soldiers. Ahead was a row of ships in various states of repair. Some of them looked like they’d never fly again and some of them looked like they’d barely been used. Quietly, Loki said, “I want to try to find our ship.”

“That’s a waste of time,” Thor said. “The chances of it being here are slim to none. For all we know, it’s been scrapped. We just need to get out of here.”

It was tempting to argue. _The Bifrost_ was her ship, and she didn’t want to leave it here. Not to mention, it had every single belonging that she had to her name on it. But Thor was right.

“Fine,” Loki said, trying not to sound as reluctant about this as she felt.

For another moment, the two of them held still. Loki absentmindedly changed into a man again. No soldiers appeared. They looked at each other and then moved, crossing the open space to the shadow of the closest ship. It looked Centaurian-made, but it also looked like it would never get off the ground. “Not this one,” Loki said.

Thor shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but as he looked at Loki, his eye widened. “Brother,” he said. “Look.”

Turning around, Loki’s eyes fell on what Thor was staring at. He couldn’t help it—he laughed in disbelief and at the universe’s sense of humor. Well, the sons of Odin had had a tough run for the past few years, they were due to catch a break.

_The Bifrost_ was parked in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are finally reunited! Hope you're all still enjoying this; thank you as always for hanging with the story. I'd love to know what you think about it so far! 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	15. Chapter 15

Everything was exactly the way they’d left it.

Some things had slid around in transit, but otherwise, it was like they’d left a few minutes ago, instead of nearly two months ago. The garbage needed to be ejected, though. Whatever they’d last eaten was rotting in the kitchen.

Wordlessly, the two of them went to the controls. Loki started the power-up sequence from the pilot’s seat and _The Bifrost_ hummed to life beautifully. He grinned and slid a hand affectionately across the console.

“I thought you hated this ship, brother?” Thor said, smirking.

“I do, but there’s something to be said for the fact that it’s _mine_. Do you remember how long I had to fight Father for a skiff of my own?” Loki paused, realizing he’d omitted the possessive. When was the last time he’d slipped up and done that? Calling him ‘their’ father had kept some distance to the relationship—less than the days when Loki had refused to call him anything but Odin, but more than simple referring to him as ‘Father.’

“Years,” Thor said, flipping switches to power up the weapons. “It must have been at least twenty. _That_ was a fight I got tired of listening to.”

Loki wrapped his fingers around the engine throttle, then punched in the ignition code. The ship’s startup sequence ran quickly. “He never trusted me.”

The engines coughed alarmingly, then fired to life. Thor glanced over. “He worried about you. Him and Mother both. They were right to, you have to admit. How long did it take you to find a secret passage off-world?”

Loki thought Thor had meant they were right to worry in general about him, rather than specifically about him piloting his own skiff. Both were understandable positions, he supposed. Smiling fondly at the memory, Loki reached overhead and flicked the release on the ship’s landing flaps. “Not long.” Looking over at Thor, he said, “Ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready to go since we got here,” Thor said emphatically. Loki’s brow furrowed. Was this honesty from Thor or was he trying to assuage Loki’s worries? “This place is horrible,” Thor added.

At that, Loki snorted. “I couldn’t agree more.” He pushed the thrusters on with his thumb and they fired, steady and strong. Ithik had done good work back at the Lagoon. The ship lifted off the ground, all sensors showing green. There had always been something off about the engines, a little stutter in their cycling, but that was gone now. _The Bifrost_ felt new. And Thor had wanted to _leave_ her.

The comm buzzed and both Loki and Thor looked at it. It wasn’t as though they didn’t know what they’d hear if they accepted the incoming message. But Loki shrugged and Thor reached over to accept it. “ _Ground control to MSC-382F9, you’re not scheduled for takeoff. Set down immediately and run your shutdown cycle._ ”

Thor raised his eyebrows at Loki. “Did you want to respond to that?”

Loki considered. “You _did_ tell me you weren’t going to let me talk my way out of anything ever again.”

“There’s no way you’re talking our way out of this. I’m counting on your to _fly_ your way out of it.”

“Bit of a back-handed compliment,” Loki said.

“I thought you’d be pleased to hear me praise your piloting skills,” Thor said, smiling innocently.

With a snort, Loki opened up the comm channel as the ship continued to rise above the planet’s surface. They were five hundred meters and counting now. “Ground control, check your schedule again, we’ve been on there for weeks. We’re making a run to Osccri.”

There was no response. Incredible, they actually _were_ checking the schedule. Well, he’d used his best ‘there must be a mistake’ voice. He’d honed it pretty well over the years. That voice had gotten him out of a lot of trouble as a child and adolescent. It had stopped working on Asgard once everyone had simply begun assuming that if he was nearby, the trouble stemmed from him. But the rest of the universe didn’t know that.

Yet.

Finally, the channel opened again. “ _MSC-382F9, I repeat, set down immediately and run your shutdown cycle. If you do not comply, you will be in direct violation of orders and force_ will _be used._ ”

No point in responding to _that._ Leaving the channel closed, Loki winced in a deeply sarcastic way and said, “That sounds serious.”

Thor armed the ship’s guns. “So is this.” Checking the altimeter, he said, “Get us higher. I don’t want our weapons fire affecting anyone on the ground.”

Thinking of his unit, and the captain that he hoped wasn’t going to face too much disciplinary action for Loki’s desertion, he said, “Right. Brace yourself.” Down on the surface, they’d feel the shockwave from this thruster fire, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone. He reached for the controls and flipped the switch to change from atmospheric to orbital thrusters, then throttled up.

The orbital thrusters engaged with a boom that was audible even inside the ship, sending out a flare of energy that broke up the cirrus clouds they were rising through. Orbital thrusters weren’t meant to be used inside a planet’s atmosphere and close enough to the ground, the shockwave _could_ cause damage. They were high enough, though—twenty kilometers now—that it wouldn’t. The ship paused for half a second, then accelerated fast, climbing through Preccat’s atmosphere at several hundred kilometers a second rather than an hour.

They reached orbit and the comm channel buzzed again. This time, Loki didn’t answer. The proximity sensors blared. “They’re coming after us,” he said casually.

Thor aimed the weapons. “They can try,” he said, sounding cheerful.

A squadron of Preccat spacecraft came into view from the other side of the planet and Thor spun the ship’s guns. As he aimed and fired, Loki switched from orbital thrusters to impulse.

The squadron scattered. Loki didn’t have any attention to spare for them, but he could tell by Thor’s satisfied grunt that he’d taken at least one of them out. The impulse engines engaged and the ship tore out of low orbit and into the Preccat system.

A blast of energy crackled past the front of the ship as Loki avoided Preccat’s planetary neighbor. He flicked his eyes to the sensors, yanking the ship out of the path of the next blast. Thor fired again and with a sharp pull on the throttle, Loki flipped the ship up and around. Thor spun the guns and blasted the nearest Preccat ships. Disabled and flying too close together, they slammed into each other and exploded in a wall of fire. Loki narrowed his eyes and steered through it, banking hard to avoid debris.

“Jump point in four klicks,” Loki said calmly, as Thor shot down another of their pursuers.

A bolt of energy hit their port wing, but the shields held. “You’re supposed to be _flying_ over there,” Thor said.

“ _You’re_ supposed to be shooting,” Loki retorted, rolling the ship to avoid another shot that nearly strafed their underside.

He flipped them again and Thor sprayed the three ships still in pursuit, and then Loki dove back and around, scattering them. The ship turned easily as he held the throttle and sent her screaming into a hard bank. “One klick,” he said.

There were still two ships behind them, the third sitting dead in the water with at least one disabled engine. Loki aimed for the jump point, punching a destination into the nav system with one hand. Another blast of energy went by them.

“Jumping in three, two, one,” Loki said, and like clockwork, the ship’s jump drive spun up. They hung there, suspended in time and space, before both stretched and the jump point hex opened in front of. Then they were gone.

They emerged about five light years distant. Loki had wanted something short to test their first jump after the repairs, but _The Bifrost_ was humming along, practically purring. Ithik and her team _had_ done a good job at the Lagoon. Fondly, he patted the control console, then examined the proximity sensor. Nothing was coming after them. Preccat was an invisible speck orbiting an insignificant star in the vast space behind them.

His shoulders sagged in a sigh and he stood up, turning, only to find Thor standing there. He took a step back, startled, before Thor grabbed him in a tight hug. Loki rolled his eyes and let his arms hang slack at his sides. But Thor’s grip didn’t loosen—if anything it tightened—and Loki sighed and wrapped his own arms around Thor. “It’s good to have you back, brother,” Thor said.

“Mmph,” Loki said noncommittally, though he didn’t let go.

The hug went on too long, as Thor’s hugs tended to do these days. The worst thing was, Loki didn’t mind. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Thor let go of him, keeping his head turned away and his eyes downcast. When he swiped the back of his hand across his nose, Loki asked, “Are you crying?”

“No,” Thor said, like this was the most asinine thing Loki had ever said. Then, “Maybe a little.”

Several possible responses flitted through Loki’s mind, but finally, all he said was, “No need for that, brother. I’m fine.”

“I’m glad of that,” Thor said, his voice still sounding thick. Then, he cleared his throat and looked at Loki. “You are, aren’t you? You’re sure?”

“Thor.” Loki gave him an exasperated look, which was laced with enough fondness that even Thor couldn’t fail to see it. “I’m _fine_.” Smiling a little, he added, “Did you really think there was anything on Preccat that could kill me?”

Thor made a noise. “Those guns could have. The ones they were always sticking in our faces. You know what those were designed for? On Preccat they have these huge, trollish giants that live in the mountains up north. Sometimes the rebels are able to, I don’t know, entice one into their ranks? Anyway, the guns are to kill those things. They’re thirty feet high, Loki, and their skin is as thick as I am tall.”

Well. Good thing old Captain Ashta had decided to bludgeon Loki with one of the rifles, rather than shoot him with it. “I’m sure you would have survived.”

“I was afraid you’d say something stupid and get yourself shot,” Thor said.

“I never say anything stupid,” Loki replied.

“What about on Ria that one time?”

“That was a miscommunication. Cultural clash.”

“Ah. Right.” Thor looked at Loki again, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Get some sleep. I’ll lay in our course.”

Loki hesitated, glancing at his tiny berth. He couldn’t wait to lie down on the poorly padded ledge, where he needed to brace his feet against the wall because it was ever-so-slightly too short to accommodate his full height. That sounded like sarcasm, but it was sincerity. _The Bifrost_ wasn’t much, but it was his, and coming back felt like coming home. 

This thought was so unexpected that he had to stand there and consider it. Home. When was the last time he’d felt like he was home? On _The Statesman?_ Maybe. But that had been taken from him. Obviously not on Sakaar, as much as he’d told himself that he did. The four years on Asgard, ruling in disguise as Odin, had, in some ways, been the worst. It had been what he’d always thought he wanted. But Asgard had never felt _less_ like home. His mother dead, his father banished, Thor spending all his time on Earth until he decided to go gallivanting around the galaxy. Nothing had been right, and the fact that it was all _supposed_ to be had made it so much worse. At the time, he’d been glad Thor was gone.

He’d _thought_ he’d been glad Thor was gone.

But this ship, this stupid, tiny, uncomfortable, clearly-more-trouble-than-it-was-worth ship— _this_ ship felt like home.

Looking back to Thor, he finally asked, “A course to where?”

Thor looked surprised. Then he said, his tone implying that he thought Loki might have taken a blow to the head and was confused, “Asgard, brother. Remember?”

Loki smiled faintly. “Right. Just making sure.” Thor looked at him and Loki said warningly, “Don’t say something embarrassing.”

At this, Thor rolled his eyes and waved a hand. “Just go to bed. Maybe your disposition will be better when you wake up.”

“Doubtful,” Loki said, but he smiled and went to change for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, finally back on track with the quest! Hope you're all still enjoying their adventures. As always, thanks for reading! I always love to know what people think, so drop me a comment if you feel so inclined 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	16. Chapter 16

Loki glanced out at the stars through _The Bifrost’s_ front viewscreen, staring at Asgard’s familiar constellations while his fingers ran along the edge of the book he’d been reading. When he’d woken up, they’d arrived, and Thor was sleeping. The ship was orbiting the debris belt that had been their home, and all the sensors were quiet.

He’d repainted his nails black first thing and spent a good hour holding his hands out in front of him, staring out the viewscreen, waiting both for them to dry and for Thor to wake up. For whatever reason, nail polish didn’t dry as well in space as it did planetside, and he didn’t want to get nail polish on the book.

He glanced down at it. It wasn’t anything special. Actually, now that he’d spent a couple hours reading it, he felt qualified to say that it was singularly unremarkable. A murder had been committed in the opening chapter—gruesome, of course—and a gruff, taciturn, manly ex-military type was solving the crime. Loki felt sure the character would sleep with the only woman in the book, but that they wouldn’t end up together. It wouldn’t quite be casual sex, but it wouldn’t mean enough to be permanent.

Or perhaps it _would_ be meaningful. Perhaps they would fall in love and this closed off man would finally find himself vulnerable, would open himself to something greater than himself. Then, unquestionably, the love interest would die.

As stories went, it wasn’t a particularly interesting one. Most people didn’t tell interesting stories, though. Most people were prosaic, stuck in what was written for them, lacking imagination, lacking the will to break out.

Though Loki wasn’t sure he could judge on that count. He’d tried on different stories, but none of them had stuck. Perhaps he lacked imagination, too. Perhaps he was too blinded by the roles he thought he _should_ occupy—prince, king, villain, nobody—to find his way to the best one. Or at least the most interesting one. Then again, whatever else you wanted to say for his life, it was hard to deny that it was interesting.

Loki reread a line or two of casual flirting in the book between the protagonist and the woman. Between the two of them, Loki wondered whose story he was inhabiting. He seemed unlikely to be the love interest. But he seemed even more unlikely to open himself enough to ever love anyone.

Anyway, he didn’t drape himself dramatically over furniture often enough to be the love interest. And he didn’t think his voice was nearly breathy enough.

There was a thump behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Thor sliding down from his berth. As Thor stretched, he came closer and said, “What are you reading?”

Loki shrugged. “Just a silly Midgardian crime novel.”

Thor looked over Loki’s shoulder at it. “I didn’t know you liked that sort of thing.”

“I don’t.”

There was a silence. Then, Thor said, “So…you’re reading it because…?”

With a small sniff of laughter, Loki said, “Because I found it in my pocket dimension when I was looking for my nail polish.” He held up a hand to demonstrate his freshly painted nails, though this was unnecessary.

The first time Thor had noticed the nails in New Asgard all those months ago, all he’d said was, “That suits you, brother.” Loki had thought perhaps he would roll his eyes or say something idiotic about Loki taking up Earth customs. But it had been genuine and…nice. Yes. It had been _nice_. After days of walking on eggshells around each other, of not knowing how to act after their time apart, five years that might as well have been five decades, it had felt for a brief moment like things could be normal again between them.

Looking down at the book again, Loki added, “I’d forgotten it was there, actually. I must have been reading it when—” But he cut himself off. Melancholy swept through him.

“When?” Thor prompted. Then, his realization nearly audible, he stammered, “Oh—uh. Oh. Is this something you don’t want to talk about?”

Yes. No. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He no longer knew what he was supposed to be sad about or who he was supposed to miss. Everything was confusing. He had a vague feeling of having embarrassed himself, having reached for something that he’d only wanted because there was a hole inside him and he needed someone to show him that he wasn’t worthless, even though deep down, he knew he was. Who better than a man who had already proven he could love a different version of Loki?

“It was Stephen Strange’s,” Loki finally said.

“The wizard?” Thor sounded surprised. “I thought you hated him.”

“Not that one,” Loki said. Not the one he’d spent nine months living with, and whom ‘hate’ was a strong word to describe his feelings for. Thor could be forgiven the mistake, though. Then, he sighed. “I don’t hate that one though, either. Not anymore.”

He didn’t know how to explain how he’d cared for one version of the man and hated another—hated him, at least, before he’d come to some sort of uneasy…thing with him. Loki trusted this universe’s version, at least. You sort of had to trust a person if you were going to leave the universe’s one remaining Infinity Stone with them.

Letting out a breath, Loki said, “I must have been reading this when one of Ultimus’s attacks came in the other dimension. I suppose I put it in my pocket dimension without thinking. It wasn’t worth stealing, even accidentally. Certainly not from a dead man.”

Or an erased-from-existence man, but, details.

There was something terribly sad about that, something terribly sad about all of it. Though he had never been privy to any of the details, he knew, he _knew_ , that in the multiverse, an alternate version _of himself_ had found a love so deep, so profound, that he had preferred death to coming to this universe and living without his…what? Soul mate? The word made Loki cringe. And yet, on that first day in the other universe’s Sanctum, when Loki had gotten the tour, he’d glanced into Strange’s bedroom and seen the rumpled sheets, the way they were bunched at the bottom of the bed. Once he’d settled in a bit, he’d wondered whom Strange was sleeping with. After a few more weeks, it had become clear who that person had been, as clear as the darkness that flashed through Strange’s eyes and the bleakness on his face when he thought he was hiding it.

That Strange had been sad all the time. It hurt to think about. Perhaps Thor was right and Loki _didn’t_ want to talk about it. There were so _many_ things he didn’t want to talk about—if he ever started, he wasn’t sure where he’d begin. It was funny, he thought he’d been over Strange, with whom, after all, he’d never actually _had_ anything. But allowing himself to feel something for Kalmsh—and he could admit, now that they were safely away from Preccat, that he’d felt something for his captain—had reopened that part of his heart, which he’d tried to keep screwed shut for over a year.

This was grief, Loki supposed. He’d never been very good at dealing with it.

But now that he was thinking about it, holding this stupid book in his hands, the sting seemed less immediate. There was distance that he’d never had before. For the first time, he thought he could imagine a time where he would think about it and it _wouldn’t_ hurt.

Thor was watching him, looking like he couldn’t decide if asking more would be prying or showing interest in his brother’s life. Old habits died hard, though. He patted Loki on the shoulder, clearly aware that this subject was painful, but didn’t say anything more. “Did you start scanning yet?” he asked instead.

“No,” Loki said. He put a hand to his cropped hair, wishing it would grow out faster. “I thought,” he added, hoping that his brother would appreciate this, “that we should set up the scans together. You’ve spent all that time with Banner and Stark.”

Blinking, Thor said, “And…you think I’ve absorbed all that science-y stuff by osmosis?”

It _did_ sound stupid when put like that. “Never mind,” Loki mumbled. He felt…odd. Tired. Different. Changed? More willing to value Thor openly? He’d been cruel the previous night, when they’d escaped from Preccat, and he felt guilty about it, even if Thor had already forgotten.

“Well, maybe I have,” Thor said. “Some of it, at least.” The two of them looked over the controls. Neither of them had ever paid much attention to the ship’s scanning capabilities. There wasn’t much cause to scan for anything when all you were doing was flying around saving people. The comm was good enough for that. For all Loki knew, they wouldn’t be able to set up the scans they’d need to do at all.

“So,” Thor said. “We need to scan for pieces of…tree.”

“Carbon, probably,” Loki said, studying the scanning instruments. How hard could it be?

Thor started pressing buttons and Loki gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t hit them.”

“I’m not hitting them,” Thor retorted. “Look, we’re going to have to set it to scan for the right molecular signature.”

Loki looked at his brother, surprised. Even though he’d resolved to involve Thor in this, he hadn’t actually expected him to come up with something that sounded…right. “Fine,” Loki said, taking a step back. “Just be gentle, would you? I’d personally like to avoid any more costly repairs that put us at risk of being re-captured by the Preccat.”

“We could have just left the ship,” Thor said as he looked at the instruments.

“It’s mine,” Loki said, knowing this sounded stubborn and childish.

Thor didn’t respond. His eye was narrowed at the panel in front of him as he punched in settings. He turned a dial, then made a noise and turned it back. “I think this is right,” he said, not sounding sure. Loki raised an eyebrow and Thor glanced up at him.

“Only one way to find out though.” When Loki shrugged, Thor flipped a switch. A light flashed on and off and the screen lit up. Readings scrolled across it.

“Think something’s happening?” Thor asked.

“Probably,” Loki replied. “Whether we’ll know what it is, well, that’s a different story.”

The two of them stood there watching. It felt stupid, as though the universe was hanging in the balance, and somehow the readouts on this screen were going to help them save it. Well, even if it wasn’t the universe, it _was_ the Nine Realms. Loki rested his fingertips on the console. “This might actually take some time.”

Thor made a noise of agreement. This was the part where the two of them would normally wander off to entertain themselves. Maybe it would involve some conversation, but more often than not, they remained silent. But to Loki’s surprise, Thor said, “Can I ask you something?”

_That_ was alarming. Thor, asking about asking. After hesitating for longer than he should have, Loki said, “You can ask, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

Thor looked uncomfortable. Maybe he’d say ‘never mind’ and leave it. Unfortunately, he also looked quite resolved to speak. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “You and Strange. Did you have a thing with him?”

Loki looked at the control panels where his fingertips were still resting. Finally, he replied, “No.” Glancing at Thor, he added reluctantly, “Not for lack of wanting to on my part.” Three months in another universe and all he had to show for it was an Infinity Stone and a broken heart. The Infinity Stone probably sounded like a prize. Certainly he would have thought so, and _had_ thought so, in the recent past. And the broken heart…well, that was nothing new, was it? He just wished he hadn’t come by it this time by falling for a human who was in love with someone else.

He closed his eyes. “It’s confusing, Thor, honestly, you don’t want to hear about this—”

“You’ve hardly told me about anything from after you got taken off _The Statesman_ ,” Thor said steadily.

“What makes you think I would want to start with this?”

Thor looked at him, clearly trying to decide on the right words. Loki felt prickly and tried to force himself to not be. “I’m not going to make you answer.”

“Good.”

There was a silence. “But you can tell me.” Thor angled his head to try to see Loki’s face better. “You know, I used to think, back when Jane and I were dating, it would have been nice if you and I hadn’t been…”

“Trying to kill each other?”

“ _You_ were trying to kill me, I never tried to kill you.”

Loki shrugged. “Details. Anyway, you did _threaten_ to kill me.”

“And you didn’t take me seriously.”

“Well, no.” He didn’t feel like admitting that he _always_ took Thor’s threats seriously. After Loki had discovered he wasn’t Asgardian, that he was, in fact, the mortal enemy of Asgardians, a Jotun, a Frost Giant, a bloodthirsty, warmongering monster, he’d feared Thor’s reaction—feared it so much that he’d worried Thor would kill him when he found out the truth. Especially after Loki’s trick at the coronation, a bit of mischief that had backfired so spectacularly that _he_ couldn’t even enjoy the fallout and chaos in hindsight. Thor had hated Frost Giants before, because _everyone_ on Asgard hated Frost Giants. But after that, he’d been ready to kill all of them. And Loki was one of them. It had been, no pun intended, chilling.

But Thor didn’t need to know any of that. Let Thor believe that Loki never took anyone or anything seriously. It was the image he’d crafted for himself. And it was a better one, probably, than the villain that he’d tried to be, even if being the villain _was_ fun. The problem was, the villain didn’t have any friends. And he certainly didn’t have a strained, awkward, ridiculous, difficult, frustrating, unbreakable, loyal, loving-despite-all-of-it relationship with his brother.

Loki glanced at the screen. These scans had better hurry up and finish. He didn’t want to risk saying any of this out loud.

Of course, Thor was oblivious, as always, to Loki’s inner life. Leaning against the console, he said, “I just thought, when we go back to Earth, if you _did_ have a thing with Strange…look, it makes sense; you lived at his house, didn’t you? You must have gotten to know each other. I understand, brother—there’s something about humans—and you two have much in common; the sorcery, the sense of humor—somewhat, er, mean—”

“I don’t,” Loki said, cutting this off before it could go any further and Thor said something even _more_ regrettable than ‘there’s something about humans.’ The thing was, Thor wasn’t _wrong_ that Loki and Strange had commonalities. And he wasn’t wrong that when you spent nine months living in the same house with someone, you were bound to develop _some_ sort of relationship with them. It was lucky that Thor didn’t seem to remember Wong, or at least, that he didn’t seem to have realized that he, too, lived at the Sanctum. Thor would probably convince himself that Loki had been engaged in some sort of open relationship with both men. Horrifying. As though the idea of having a _thing_ with Strange wasn’t bad enough.

Loki picked at a spot near his thumbnail where he’d smudged the nail polish. “It was the other one. In the other universe.” There was a pause, and then it was as though Loki was watching the realization hit Thor’s cerebral cortex in real time. “Yes,” he said dryly. “He’s dead. Not dead, exactly. Just…gone.”

“Oh.”

Loki pressed his lips together and nodded. This felt bizarre. It wasn’t that the two of them hadn’t had conversations about difficult topics before—after all, they’d talked about _their_ relationship, and their family. Haltingly, at times. Alright, haltingly most of the time. There was no subject more difficult than their family.

But this conversation they were having, this wasn’t something they _did_. This was…normal. Normal siblings talked about their love lives. The Odinsons didn’t. Of course, Thor’s most recent relationship was with a woman who’d become the Mighty Thor herself and Loki’s past was littered with unrequited pining. Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that such discussions didn’t come naturally. One of the most in-depth conversations they’d had about Jane was Loki telling Thor what a fool he was for loving a mortal. Looked like the joke was on him.

Loki twisted his fingers together, looking at them without seeing them. “I had a ‘thing’ for a Strange in a different universe. When I came back here, after I…” Erased trillions of people from existence? “…after I fixed everything, and I ended up in New York, at the Sanctum…”

He trailed off and switching his fidgeting hand from left to right. He hardly knew where he was going with this. Why was talking about this so uncomfortable? Why did he feel like something was jamming up his windpipe? The hard part was over—he’d _mentioned_ the other Strange. There was no reason the rest of this should be difficult to talk about.

Taking a breath, Loki went on, “Well, _this_ Strange—the one you know—he doesn’t care for me. At least he didn’t. And the feeling was mutual.”

Thor raised his eyebrows, looking like he thought he knew better. “The feeling _was_ mutual. I’m hearing a lot of past tense in all this stuff about the two of you not liking each other.”

With his most scathing eye roll, Loki said, “Trust me, there’s nothing there.”

“Right.”

Loki opened his mouth to argue and possibly throw in that the absolute _last_ person he’d take advice about his love life from was “It-was-a-mutual-dumping” Thor, but at that moment, there was a chime from the scanner. Thor got to the screen first and Loki was forced to peer over his shoulder. “It looks like it found rather a lot of carbon,” Loki observed.

“Every speck of any plant that was growing on Asgard during Ragnarok and didn’t get vaporized,” Thor said, sounding unsurprised, but still frustrated by the results.

Arching an eyebrow, Loki said delicately, “Not just plants.”

Thor scowled. “Why do you have to be so morbid?”

“Just in my nature, I suppose.”

Putting a hand to his chin, Thor said darkly, “Our sister’s out there.”

Loki crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the console. “In pieces, hopefully. Many tiny, _tiny_ pieces. As much as I’m enjoying all this quality family time with you, I think I’m fine with just seeing her at the odd family reunion.” Loki paused. “Or, you know, never.” He angled his head and peered at the screen again while Thor grunted his agreement. “So what are we going to do with all this?”

Glancing at him, Thor said, “This was _your_ idea. Why should I have to figure out what we do with all this?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki said, “Fine. Move over then, I can’t see.” Loki put a fingertip to the screen and delicately swiped through the results, his eyes flicking over the readings. The ship’s scanners had found results exactly as absurd as Thor had once predicted—that was to say, traces of carbon scattered across the entire disc of debris that had once been Asgard. It would take several years to collect it all and another several to sift through it to find what they were looking for.

Loki cocked his head at the readings. “What if,” he said slowly, “we did another scan, looking for something else, and overlaid it with these results?”

Sounding frustrated, Thor said, “Yes, that sounds all well and good, but what do you plan on scanning for?”

Loki pulled out a knife and Thor reacted immediately, grabbing his wrist in a bone-crushing grip. With a wince, Loki said, “Ah. I can see you still don’t trust me.”

“Sorry.” Thor let go of him, but there was still a wary look on his face. “You just get…a _look_ in your eyes when you’re holding a knife.”

“Mm.” Glancing at the dagger, Loki tossed it straight up in the air and caught it. Light flashed on the blade. This didn’t seem to assuage Thor’s nerves.

Thor reached out and closed his hand around Loki’s wrist again. “Why _are_ you holding a knife right now, Loki?” he asked suspiciously.

Loki smiled. “Yggdrasil is both a tree and a piece of magic imbued with the power of the Allfather.” He paused meaningfully, wondering if Thor would get it. But when Thor continued to stare, Loki sighed and let the dagger slide until it was dangling loosely from his fingers. “We have something on this ship that _also_ holds the power of the Allfather.” Pause for dramatic effect, since Thor was still looking at him like he was waiting for him to pull a rabbit out of a hat. “You, brother. _You_ have the power of the Allfather in your blood.”

Somehow, Thor managed to look vaguely alarmed and exasperated all at once. “We’ve been over this. I don’t.”

Flicking the knife upright again Loki said, “Well, it should be easy to find out.”

“You are _not_ going to stick me with that and test my blood,” Thor snapped. “You wouldn’t even know where to start running tests.”

With a slight smile, Loki said, “Oh, I have _complete_ faith in myself to work it out. I’m looking for magic, after all. Who knows magic better?”

“No.”

Loki tapped the flat of the blade against his knuckles and waited.

“ _No,_ Loki.”

Puffing his cheeks with air and letting the breath out slowly, Loki said, “I suppose we can just collect all that carbon dust. We’ll probably be done in, oh, what do you think, ten years? Fifteen? It’s really nothing for gods, is it. So what if the Nine Realms have to wait a little longer to be united again? Though by the time we finish, your friends on Earth will be getting old; who knows what Jane will be doing, she may even have married someone else—”

“You—” Thor said, this sentence going nowhere but into an inarticulate growl.

Loki raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes innocently. “What?”

With a glare—and Ymir’s bones, his brother actually really _did_ look like Odin when he glared like that, what with the eyepatch—Thor said, “I hate you.” But he held his hand out.

Smiling a little, Loki said, “Hold that thought.” He went to get their medical kit—exactly where it had always been in one of the storage bins along the back bulkhead. The Preccat really hadn’t touched _anything_ on this ship. It was insulting, actually; hadn’t they thought a couple of Asgardians would have anything of value?

Probably not something to be insulted about. _Overly sensitive, Loki_. Well, yes. Hadn’t he always been? Anyway, medical kit. He brought it back to the front of the ship and set it on the console, dug around for an analyzer, and sterilized his knife.

With a quick twist of the blade, Loki nicked Thor’s skin open along his palm, using the analyzer to catch several droplets of blood as they welled out of his brother’s skin. When he had enough, a bandage appeared in his hand and he pressed it down over Thor’s hand. “There.” He smirked. “All done.”

“This is stupid,” Thor said. “We both know it’s not going to find anything.”

“Brother,” Loki said, starting the analyzer, “believe me, if I wanted to make you bleed, I wouldn’t have come up with a such a convoluted way to accomplish it. I _do_ think that I’m going to find something.”

Thor muttered something and held the bandage against his wrist. When he lifted it up to check it, Loki could see that the wound had already stopped bleeding.

The analyzer was spitting out readings and chemical compositions. Loki cocked his head at it, holding up his other hand and absently rubbing his thumb and fingers together. Green light flickered over his hand, swirling in eddies before vanishing again.

Putting his fingertips lightly on the analyzer, Loki cast a spell, altering the scan to search Thor’s blood for anything remotely similar—anything that wasn’t strictly biological, anything that was _magical_.

It was funny, considering they’d grown up with Thor scorning Loki’s magic. He’d mocked it from the time they were young children, only accepting it in recent years. He’d _always_ said their father didn’t do magic, and why wasn’t Loki more like the two of them? When they’d been quite young and Loki had retorted that Mother did magic, Thor had said, “Oh, well, it’s fine for _girls_ ,” with a whole host of implications behind it. Most of them hadn’t even registered as idiotic at the time. It was only once they gotten older and Loki remembered Thor saying it—because Loki remembered every slight ever leveled at him, one of his very special skills—that it had made him angry. Angry on a deeper level, that was. The first time Thor had said it, after all, had resulted in the snake/stabbing incident.

Anyway, it turned out their father _did_ do magic. Enchanting Mjølnir. Keeping their sister imprisoned. The Bifrost. Turning Loki from runt Jotun to misfit Asgardian.

The analyzer stopped running, displaying its final results. Loki smiled. Vindication. “There you have it, brother,” he said, turning the screen so Thor could see it. “That’s the Odinforce in your veins.”

“You have no idea what any of that means,” Thor said, sounding disgruntled. “It’s just a bunch of symbols.”

With a shrug, Loki said, “Let’s find out.”

He entered the readings from the analyzer into the ship’s scanning instruments. The sensors started up again, though this time, the progress indicator hardly moved. Thor looked over Loki’s shoulder at it. “This is going to take forever,” Thor said. “I’m going to have something to eat.”

As Thor headed for the galley, Loki said, “If there’s anything that hasn’t spoiled.”

“Pop Tarts,” Thor said over his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Loki said, “Right. Pop Tarts. You’re supposed to be a god, you know.”

Thor just waved a hand.

As the instruments ran, Loki sat in the pilot’s seat, feet propped up on the console as he stared into space. Familiar constellations caught his eye. There was the Serpent, the Longship, the Giant. Naglfar. The Chalice. The Spear. Loki could remember nights that their mother had brought them to a terrace near the very top of the palace and taught them the names of the constellations and the stars, telling them the tales that went along with both.

When they were old enough to understand, she’d pointed out a cluster of bright stars and said, “And there is Valhalla, where the brave are welcomed after they pass from this life.”

Thor, of course, had asked, “When do I get to go? I’m very, _very_ brave, Mum.”

Frigga had smiled and said, “Not for many, many years. Eons.” Thor had looked disappointed and their mother had laughed. “There’s no rush to get to Valhalla, Thor.”

When Loki had been silent, withdrawn, she’d noticed. She always had. “What’s wrong, Loki?” she’d asked gently.

He’d been too young to understand that one should never answer this question truthfully, but he’d hesitated, because he was starting to learn that sometimes people asked but didn’t really want an answer. But when she’d asked again, gently, he’d said, “What if I’m not brave enough to go to Valhalla? What if you and Father and Thor are all there and I’m all alone? What if I go somewhere bad?”

She’d looked sad, sadder than he’d ever seen her, before it was gone, and she smiled and stroked his hair. “Of course you won’t go somewhere bad,” she’d said. “You’re very brave. And your father and I would never leave you alone.”

“Or me!” Thor had piped up. “If you went somewhere bad, Loki, I’d come and get you! I’d fight every Asgardian Wolf and Frost Giant to get to you.”

Loki had smiled a little, comforted. How easy it had been to comfort him when he’d been young. “I don’t think you can fight _every_ wolf and giant, Thor.”

“Of course I can,” Thor had said. Their mother had laughed.

Loki had looked up at the stars, and then he’d asked, “Can you go to Valhalla? Could we get on a ship and fly there now?”

“No,” Mother had said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t work like that. There are ways for the living to get there and for those in Valhalla to visit the living, but that’s for witches and mystics.”

After that, Thor had begged her to tell them how to visit Valhalla, but she never had. Loki wondered if she’d truly known, or if it was just a story to tell children. And if those in Valhalla really could visit the living, it was something Loki had never experienced. One drunken night on _The Statesman_ , Thor had said that their father had come to him in a vision while he’d been fighting Hela. “Asgard’s not a place, it’s a people,” he’d mumbled, swirling a shot of something that they’d both regretted drinking. Loki had been hurt but unsurprised. Of course their father would visit Thor and not him.

And because he’d been drinking and their cabin had been spinning, he’d nearly asked, _Was mother there?_ But he’d stopped himself, because as much as it would always hurt to have been second-best in their father’s eyes, it was what he expected. If Mother had visited Thor but not deemed it necessary to come to Loki in all these years, it would likely cause a wound that would never heal.

His eyes found those stars now and he stared at them, his face expressionless. If their parents were watching, what were they thinking? Were they proud of what Asgard had become? “Asgard’s not a place, it’s a people” was a very pretty thing to tell your desperate son who was looking for a way to save what remained of his people. Or, put another way, it was a glib way to handwave away the fact that you needed your children to destroy an entire planet to clean up the mess you’d made.

Loki rolled his eyes. Once he and Brunnhilde had started talking to each other (instead of shouting and/or trying to stab each other), they’d found they had a mutual scorn of the Asgardian mythos which had been enough to bridge their mutual dislike. If they were friends now, it was due entirely to the fact that they’d started out delighting in ripping down and exposing that myth for what it was: a golden lie.

He sighed. He wasn’t being fair. For someone who prided himself on the ability to see nuance, he struggled with finding it in his father’s actions. Odin had lied about so much and made it so easy to hate him. But he’d never been able to just be a father. He was the Allfather, too. And the two weren’t always compatible.

Without thinking, he leaned back, then realized his mistake and threw his arms out to catch his balance. But the chair didn’t rock back. Apparently it had been included in the repairs at the Lagoon. He really was beginning to hope for real that Ithik had been paid for her work.

Glancing over at the progress on the scans and seeing that they weren’t quite half done, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back further. Regardless of lies and old pain and memories, the stars above Asgard were beautiful. When they’d gotten older, Thor and he had spent nights camping in the forest or the mountains, staying up until the cold, still, silent hours of the early morning, talking and staring up at the sky. Loki had been happy in an uncomplicated way during those times.

“You’re very quiet over there, brother,” Thor said from the galley.

Loki glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, you know.”

“Thinking?”

He held out a hand as if to say, _what else?_

Thor didn’t press the issue. Loki appreciated that. If his brother had, he didn’t know what he would have said. But that was another thing that Thor had gotten better at lately—letting Loki think and not taking it personally.

Loki smiled to himself. Speaking of uncomplicated happiness. He was happy to have his brother back.

Even if Thor _did_ think that Pop Tarts were an acceptable food choice. The brown mush on Preccat might have been better. At least it had some nutritional value.

There was a tone and Loki glanced at the scanner. The progress bar showed 100%. He swung his feet off the console and to the floor, then got up to look at the results.

“Thor,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to read! As always, I hope you're enjoying and would love to hear your thoughts 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	17. Chapter 17

It had worked better than he’d expected. When they overlaid the results of the two scans on top of each other, there was only one spot in the chart that showed both carbon and magic traces. They shot a beacon to track the chemical signature, in case the position of whatever was out there shifted during the next forty-five minutes.

Forty-five, because it was going to take twenty-five to get over there, ten outside the ship to retrieve the fragment of Yggdrasil, and thirty minutes for them to argue about which one of them was going to go out into space to get it. Loki figured there’d be a five minute period at the beginning of their impulse run to the correct coordinates during which Thor would assume he’d be going out, and they’d only start arguing about it once he casually mentioned it, which would then prompt Loki to inform him that actually, in fact, _he_ would be going out, thanks very much.

That was more or less exactly what happened.

“What?” Thor said in response to Loki’s assertion that he was going outside the ship. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, thinking’s always been a bit of a trouble spot for you,” Loki said. “So I can’t say that surprises me.”

Thor made a face at him. Planting himself between Loki and the airlock, he said, “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“Maybe neither of us has to go out there.” Thor was giving Loki the sort of look that meant he expected to be listened to. Luckily, this look had never worked all that well on Loki. “Can we tractor it in?”

With a snort, Loki said, “Unless the Preccat installed a tractor beam on this while they had it mothballed on that airfield, no, because we don’t have one. A minute ago _you_ were perfectly willing to go out there. Why the change of heart?”

“Because,” Thor said. “That was me, and this is you.”

“And?”

“And it’s different.”

“Why?”

The frustration had made its way into Thor’s voice by this time. “Because it’s one thing to put _myself_ in danger, but it’s another to do it to others.”

Ever the hero, his brother. Loki had to try not to let his eyes roll out the back of his head. “I’ll be fine. There’s no other way to bring it in.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “And I’ll do it.”

Scratch his earlier estimate. Loki couldn’t keep this up for thirty minutes. Instead, he just flicked a finger towards the storage bin outside the airlock where they kept the spacesuit, sealing it against Thor, should he try to suit up prior to arriving at the coordinates. “I’m going out there,” he said, his tone carrying enough finality and warning that it silenced Thor.

The argument started up again when they reached the coordinates, but Thor couldn’t get into the bin, so Loki sort of won by default. Once Thor had given up trying to use brute strength to get past Loki’s spell, Loki raised his eyebrows, flicked his fingers to get Thor to move aside, and effortlessly pulled the bin open himself. He grabbed the EVA suit, popped the ring over his mouth, and flipped it on.

As the suit expanded and covered his body, Thor grumbled, “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this.”

Loki looked at him through the gridded blue lines of the suit. Was his brother really this obtuse?

Stupid question.

_Because._ Because Thor may have been the one who had suggested it, but _Loki_ was the one who had put Surtur’s crown in the Eternal Flame. They’d destroyed Asgard, the two of them, but Loki had struck the fatal blow. This was just something he needed to do.

But as he entered the unlock code for the airlock, he said, “Because I want to stretch my legs.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

The airlock opened and Loki stepped through. “Obviously,” he said, just before the door clanged shut.

He hooked a tether to the suit’s belt, tested it, and then opened the outer doors. The air was sucked from the airlock, Loki with it, but he wrapped his fingers around the tether line and caught himself just outside the ship. The atmosphere had already vanished in a cloud of frozen white vapor by the time he looked up.

Space walks. It wasn’t the cold that bothered him, though it _did_ get cold in the suit. It wasn’t even the vacuum. It was the dark, all around him, inescapable. It reminded him of the Sanctuary.

He didn’t want to think about the Sanctuary.

The comm in the suit hissed. _“Do you see it?”_

Loki squinted and spotted the beacon they’d fired, flashing about fifteen meters away. “Yes,” he said, thumbing the tether line to give himself more slack. Firing the suit thrusters, he headed closer to the beacon. Closer to the fragment of Yggdrasil that was hopefully waiting there next to it.

As spacewalks went, this one was easy. Fifteen meters straight out and straight back; it was nothing. Granted, going into space in the middle of a planetary debris field wasn’t necessarily a _brilliant_ idea, but, well, as he’d told Thor—this was the only way. Besides, nothing much seemed to be whizzing around in the disc of debris. It was still slowly spreading, if he had to guess, the lingering force of the explosion caused by Surtur’s sword continuing to push everything outward from that wound at Asgard’s heart.

And then, a tone sounded in the suit.

Loki didn’t even know these suits could do that. And suits didn’t have tones to tell you everything was fine—which meant it was nothing good. Tapping his wrist to pull up the suit’s display, he pressed his lips together and exhaled in irritation. Just his luck. Suit integrity at 7%…and falling.

“Thor,” he said.

“ _Yes?_ ”

“Next time we stop at a planet or a space station, we might want to pick up another one of these suits.”

“ _Why?_ ” Thor’s wariness was audible even over the comm.

“Well.” 4%. “This one is imminently going to be useless.”

There was a pause. 3%. Had the communication cut out? He needed to get back, but he still didn’t have the piece of Yggdrasil. It was still three meters away. If he fired his thrusters and headed back to the ship, he could make it most of the way before the integrity failed entirely, his air ran out, and the cold of space flooded the suit.

“ _What do you mean, it’s going to be useless?_ ”

On the other hand, then they wouldn’t have the piece of the World Tree. And they also wouldn’t have an EVA suit to go _get_ the piece of the World Tree.

With a huff of breath, Loki fired his thrusters—and headed three meters further away from _The Bifrost_ , towards the flashing beacon.

“ _Loki, what’s going on?_ ”

“Remember how you, oh, how does everyone put it, took the full force of a dying star?” Loki said. Two meters and 2% integrity.

“ _What the hel is happening out there?_ ” Thor demanded.

Loki reached the beacon and looked around, keeping his breath even, knowing he was going to have a limited supply of air very shortly. It wasn’t easy. With each warning tone from the suit, more adrenaline flooded his body, making his heart pound faster. It felt like it was trying to burst from his chest, like it was too big for his rib cavity. He _hated_ spacewalks.

There was a collection of larger chunks of Asgard’s rubble here—fist-sized instead of pebble sized or smaller. Large enough for him to recognize a block of the palace wall and a piece of one of the tiles in the hallway outside Thor’s and Loki’s bedrooms.

And there, in front of him, was a small piece of gnarled wood, about half a finger-length. It looked like nothing. Less than nothing. It didn’t look important and it certainly didn’t look like it was capable of producing anything like magic.

Loki reached out and closed his hand around it. Was it his imagination, or did he feel something, a little spark of Odinforce? Was he even capable of feeling the Odinforce? Or did his unworthiness run too deep?

Suit integrity still at 2%. He might actually make it back.

Firing the thrusters, he started back to _The Bifrost_ , ignoring Thor as he once again asked to know what was happening. He was just concentrating on making this fifteen meter sojourn across the vacuum. Easy spacewalk, for heaven’s sake. Why did he even let these thoughts cross his mind?

He was within five meters when it happened. There was a sudden, blinding explosion of pain in his hip, so blazing that for a second, or possibly several, black telescoped in from the edges of his vision.

No. Couldn’t black out. The suit integrity was sitting at 2%, it was—

Oh. No, never mind. It had just failed entirely.

“Thor,” he said, sounding calm, even if he didn’t feel it. The pain in his hip was unbearable bright white-hot, annihilating pain, the kind that sent you straight into shock or unconsciousness. He could afford neither so he dug the fingers of his mind into the world around him, hanging onto it tooth and nail through sheer force of the same stubborn will that had kept him clinging to life all the times he should have died. He grit his teeth hard enough to crack them and held onto awareness. “Thor,” he repeated, wondering if he’d already answered and Loki had missed it. There was no answer this time, either. At that moment, the suit’s power flickered, went off, came on again, and then died entirely.

There was a hissing sound. The pain was so great that Loki couldn’t think straight. But then it occurred to him. That was his air supply escaping through a hole in the suit.

His intellect kicked in. Something had hit him. A piece of Asgard, a stray bit of space dust hurtling through the cosmos; it was unimportant. It had slammed into him, punctured his suit, and taken out the power. It may have shattered his hip.

Black started to close in around his vision and this time he didn’t know whether it was from pain or oxygen deprivation. Without the thrusters, he’d never make it back to the ship. His lungs started growing tight and he felt as though something, an invisible hand, was squeezing his lungs and his throat, choking the air out of him. Strangling him.

_You will never be a god._

The words flashed through his head with a blinding flash of pain and a sick feeling of his brain pulling itself in different directions. The hand around his neck squeezed tighter, lifted him above the deck of _The Statesman_ while his legs dangled helplessly.

What? No. There was no ship. He was in space.

And he was going to die out here if he didn’t do something about it.

Slowly, as though in a nightmare that he was trying to wake himself up from, he reached for the tether that he knew was hooked onto the suit. He’d pull himself back. No thrusters, so no other choice. His air was gone, he was asphyxiating, he was already hallucinating from the lack of oxygen. A hand crushing his arm, forcing him to drop his blade. A hand around his throat.

_You will never be a god._

Why did he feel like he had already died?

His vision swam with fuzzy spots and flashing lights, and a cool, logical part of his brain informed him that his neurons were dying. He may have been a Frost Giant, but he couldn’t float around in space without a suit. He wasn’t Asgardian. He wasn’t Thor. He wasn’t his brother.

Of course he wasn’t his brother. That had always been the problem.

His fingers were locked around the tether but he realized that he wasn’t moving. How long had he not been moving? It felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been hours, because there was no way he could have lived that long. Had it been minutes? Maybe only seconds? Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was death, the universe going on around you in slow motion, flashing lights and ghostly voices saying things you never said.

Oh well. At least he was in Asgard. At least he was where Mother had died too.

He decided he’d keep his eyes open, even though Asgard wasn’t much to look at anymore. Space dust and death, memories and regrets. Starlight shining through all of it.

Something grabbed at him, but that no longer seemed odd.

This time though, he started moving. That was different. He wanted to look down at his hand to see if he was pulling himself back along the tether, but he couldn’t make the muscles in his neck obey what his brain wanted them to do. His brain was useless. That was a shame. His brain had always been his one selling point. That and his charm, his voice, but if he’d been strangled, if his neck had been broken, he wouldn’t have a voice anymore, would he?

Then, suddenly, there was light, there was a loud bang, and he landed hard on his back on something. None of those things were in space, so that seemed strange.

His suit opened up and heat and light and _air_ flooded in and something hit his chest and a voice said, “ _Breathe_ , dammit, just take a breath—”

It felt like second nature to both ignore this voice out of spite and, paradoxically, to do whatever it asked. So Loki breathed.

Actually, Loki drew in a huge lungful of air, gagged, and started choking and coughing. The pain was back in his hip, throbbing, absolutely blinding and all-consuming, bright white agony radiating down his legs, up into his chest, into every part of his body from that spot.

The blackness and the fuzzy neon spots were clearing from his vision, but there was a bright light overhead instead. That was what humans thought they saw when they died, wasn’t it? Oh, for heaven’s sake, they weren’t _right,_ were they? Imagine the humans being right about anything; it was sort of an unbearable thought. Almost as unbearable as the pain he was in, which his mind was actually beginning to detach from.

But then, a shadow appeared in front of the light. Loki squinted and then realized what it was. Thor.

“Are you breathing?” Thor asked.

Thor could help him.

Loki opened his mouth to try to speak but couldn’t make any sound come out, not between the pain and the suffocation and the feeling of a hand around his throat, of his spine splintering. The expression on Thor’s face, already deeply concerned, flipped over into real fear. “What’s wrong? Can’t you breathe?”

He gripped Loki’s arms and with effort, Loki reached up and hooked his fingers onto Thor’s shoulder, digging his fingertips in like claws. “Painkiller,” he gasped. “ _Medkit_.”

Thor didn’t hesitate, detaching Loki’s fingers from his armor and bolting. He was in the airlock. He must be in the airlock. The medkit was at the front of the ship. It would be seconds. A minute, at most. Yes, this was pain, but he’d been in pain, he’d been in _much_ worse pain, he could handle this, he just had to be stronger than it.

And then Thor was back. He grabbed Loki’s arm and jabbed a needle straight through his leathers and into his bicep. Loki could feel the pressure of the plunger depressing on the syringe and then he heard a clatter. Probably Thor throwing it away, because his hands were on Loki’s arms again and he was hovering, that fear still on his face.

The pain was quieting. It receded in stages, from the white fury of a churning star, to a blazing fire, to a spike being hammered into his hip, to finally nothing at all. Loki finally drew in a full breath. His lungs didn’t feel like they could quite contain the air, but he let it out and breathed in again, then again.

“You fool,” Thor said, sounding relieved and infuriated. “You stupid, stubborn fool. Why couldn’t you just let _me_ go out?”

Loki coughed, tried to lift his head, and then let it fall back to the deck of the airlock with a thump. It didn’t hurt at all. The painkillers were doing their job. “Because I don’t listen, brother,” he said hoarsely. “You know that. When have I ever listened?”

“Maybe this will teach you at last,” Thor said, his voice gruff.

Loki knocked a fist against the deck, trying to force strength into his limbs. “I very much doubt it.”

Thor closed his eye in either long-suffering exasperation or relief. Or more probably, a combination of both. “What happened out there?” he asked.

Loki had to think about it. What _had_ happened?

He opened his other fist, the one that had been clenched tight and had never loosened, and held it up for Thor to see.

“Is that—?” Thor asked, staring, his eye wide.

Loki nodded. Speaking—about this—was too much. Now he knew he wasn’t imagining it. The gnarled fragment of wood in his hand was warm, radiating power. Radiating magic. It felt soothing on his palm, like it was doing its own part to help with the pain Loki was in.

Slowly, Thor picked it up, as though he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Maybe it was only the oxygen deprivation that had left Loki feeling as though he _could_. It was a piece of Yggdrasil. The World Tree. It was a piece of Asgard.

“You did it,” Thor said.

“Of course I did.” Loki closed his eyes. “It was only fifteen meters.”

Thor sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey.” Loki slitted an eye. “That’s my line.” At that, Thor laughed. It sounded like he was letting go of tightly coiled fear with it.

With his brother holding the piece of Yggdrasil, Loki knew he needed to deal with the rest of what had happened out there. “The suit’s dead,” he said as he lifted a hand to his hip. He rested his fingers there, trepidation flooding him. Yes, he’d been in worse pain. But he was in no rush to start this particular pain up again. He had to know, though. Taking in a deep breath and holding it, he pushed in on his hip bone.

It didn’t hurt. The painkiller was doing its job.

And even more encouragingly, he could still feel his intact hip underneath his fingers.

Thor was watching him. “Yes, it was pretty obvious the suit was dead. You know I went out there to get you, don’t you?”

“Did you?” Loki asked. He supposed that made sense.

Looking exasperated again, Thor said, “Of course. You weren’t answering, and then I saw the suit go off, and you stopped moving.” More quietly, he added, “Of course I came to get you.”

Loki thought of the memories he’d been lost in earlier, of Thor assuring him that he’d fight every Asgardian Wolf and Frost Giant to get him out of whatever bad place he’d managed to land himself in.

There was a silence. The deck in the airlock was cold. The air was too, but not so much that it bothered him. Thor, on the other hand, was probably freezing. “The suit was already on its way out,” Loki finally volunteered. “But something hit me.” He massaged at his hip again. Definitely all in one piece, though if there was a fracture, he’d have no way of knowing. “I thought it might have shattered my hip.”

Alarm flashed over Thor’s face again. “Did it?” His hand jerked, as though he was going to check himself.

“I don’t think so.” With effort, Loki pushed himself into a sitting position. “Everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be.” Then, trying to keep his tone light, he asked, “How much more of that painkiller have we got?”

Thor put a hand behind Loki’s back, supporting him. The last thing Loki wanted to do was lean back and let him do it, but after a second, he let himself relax. He allowed his brother to help him. “Seven or eight.” He reached out and picked up the empty syringe that he’d tossed aside once he’d injected it into Loki’s vein, his eyes scanning it. “They’re supposed to last twenty-four hours.”

“Midgardian?” Loki asked with a delicate sneer.

Ignoring this, Thor held it up for Loki to see the logo on the side. Stark. Of course. “Banner invented it,” Thor said.

“Oh, great. Tremendous.”

The two of them lapsed into silence. Thor was still holding the piece of Yggdrasil, but gently, he pressed it back into Loki’s palm. “Can you stand?” he asked.

“Yes,” Loki said. All bravado. He actually had no idea, and if he found out he couldn’t by falling on his face in front of Thor, he’d never forgive…himself? Or maybe Thor.

He put a palm flat on the floor to push himself up, but Thor didn’t even give him the chance to fall on his face. His brother got up first and he held his hands under Loki’s arms, steadying him as he shakily climbed to his feet. For a moment, he supported all his weight on his right leg, but then, gingerly, he transferred some of the weight to his left. If there was something seriously wrong with his hip, this was when he was going to find out.

Everything held, though. He was standing.

For heaven’s sake. He was a Prince of Asgard. He was a _god_. He wasn’t supposed to be so impressed with himself for something as stupid and simple as standing.

“Come on,” Thor said. Without asking, he slung Loki’s arm over his shoulder and put his other arm around Loki’s waist, supporting him as they made their way back into the ship.

“This is embarrassing,” Loki grumbled.

“For who?”

“I don’t know. Both of us.” Loki felt exhausted. As the airlock door hissed shut behind them, it seemed like an insurmountable expanse of empty space between him and his bed. But Thor helped him to his berth without asking, then settled him in. As a final touch, he laid the blanket over Loki, tucking it around his shoulders and neck, which was Loki’s preferred way of sleeping. The fact that his brother had noted this at all, but also remembered it, was touching. It made Loki’s eyes sting. Idiotic. The painkillers were getting to him.

Thor patted Loki’s shoulder and started to walk away, but Loki grabbed his arm to stop him before he went. “Here,” he said thickly. Speaking had rarely taken so much effort. When Thor gave him a questioning look, Loki held out the piece of the World Tree. “Put it…somewhere safe,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Sleep, brother,” Thor said gently.

Loki did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since Loki got injured, haha. Hope you all enjoyed the hurt/comfort. As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think! I love that little hit of dopamine when I see an email from AO3 XD
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	18. Chapter 18

Memory was a funny thing.

Sometimes, his memories of Asgard were right there, as though he could reach out and touch them. And then others, they seemed far away, impossibly distant, as though his life had been a dream, and everything had only begun once he’d Fallen from the Bifrost. Was he actually who he thought he was? _Him?_ A Prince of Asgard? Sometimes he tested himself, going through servants’ names, just to prove to himself that he could remember them, that they had existed.

Of course, most of them were dead. So _had_ they existed? Did it matter if they had? Had Loki mattered, once he’d died?

_The Statesman_ was always crystal clear, every moment feeling captured in amber, impeccably preserved. It was as though his mind had known how special a time it was and recorded every second, storing it away to be recalled later in perfect detail. And then, the universe’s sense of humor being what it was, he’d died. So all that remembering was for nothing.

But then he hadn’t died. How could he remember something that hadn’t happened? Because it both had and hadn’t happened to him? Was this some sort of quantum entanglement? Was it magic?

Most of Loki’s memories weren’t like _The Statesman_. On _The Statesman_ , there had been pain, but there had been joy. Sometimes, considering how long he’d been alive, Loki thought there was something incredibly sad about how little joy there had been his life. Sometimes, he was sure he’d never experienced that kind of joy at any other time, either before or after.

Sometimes, he knew he was lying to himself.

_The Statesman_ had been special, but he had spent so much time gazing at the pedestal that he’d put it on that he couldn’t find the joy in everything else. His reunion with Thor, with the rest of the Asgardians—Brunnhilde, Korg, Meik, the people he’d gotten to know on _The Statesman_ ; the moment that he’d found out Jane was alive and hadn’t succumbed to her cancer. He’d been unable to find the joy in these momentous occasions, and that was wrong, wasn’t it? Why was the memory of a meal on _The Statesman_ so much more joyful, of sitting in the ship’s helm with Thor and Heimdall and feeling peace like he’d never felt before?

There had been other moments. Later moments. Not on _The Statesman_ but at, of all places, the New York Sanctum. He wasn’t sure he’d recognized them until now, half asleep, maybe fully asleep. Maybe dreaming? The Sanctum was another thing that often felt like a dream. Had he really spent nine months living with two wizards? Yes, he had, and as he drifted, mostly asleep, he realized he preferred to think of it as a dream, because he often preferred not to think of it at all. But it was real, it had happened, and there had been times, which had come more and more frequently the longer he’d spent there, where he’d been happy. Where he’d felt, dare he say it, _joy_.

There were, if he was honest, too many to count. That was the worst part. The worst part was that he hadn’t been miserable all the time. He’d wanted to be. He _should_ have been. There hadn’t been anything good in his life. Thor was a different man. Asgard was gone. What could ever make him happy in the face of that? Never mind the good things he’d found. They were a shadow. They couldn’t ever measure up, and nor should they. It felt like a betrayal of… _something_ if he allowed them to.

The worst part, though, was that he’d found happiness there, when he had been utterly determined not to. Jane Foster had become his friend, a closer friend than he’d had in a long time. Perhaps ever. Wong was…possibly also a friend? At least, open hostilities between them had ended, and they talked. Most people might consider that a friend. Then again, Wong didn’t seem like much of a people person, and Norns knew Loki wasn’t.

And Strange. _Strange._ Loki didn’t know what Strange was. He didn’t want to like him, just as he hadn’t wanted to be happy at the Sanctum.

He remembered a night sometime in the winter—late February. The last day of February, actually. Apparently it was something special, a leap year, so February had an extra day.

“They should have stuck it in September,” Strange said. “February is the _worst_ possible month for an extra day.”

The four of them—Strange, Wong, Jane, and Loki—were in the Sanctum’s library, after eating dinner together. It was an odd social group, but it was the social group he had, even if their Goddess of Thunder was nothing like Loki’s brother. She was too charming, for one thing. Loki had gotten all the charm in their family.

Probably not true, but it made people laugh when he said it.

Even though Loki, by all rights, should have been entirely out of place amongst these people, all of them human, all of them having real reasons to dislike him. And yet, in some ways, he felt more accepted among them than he ever had with his so-called friends on Asgard. There was something absurd about the fact that he got along better with Thor’s human ex-girlfriend than he had with his peers.

They were drinking that night: wine for Loki and Strange, beer for Wong, and whiskey for Jane. Most of the lights were off in the library, but the four of them were sitting in a pool of warm, yellow light, the radio playing quietly in the background, while they talked. They’d all had a _little_ too much to drink, just enough that there was a pleasant buzz, not enough to actually be drunk.

“Too many months in a row with thirty-one days, then,” Wong said.

Strange made a considering face, then shrugged. “Okay, I can’t argue with that. Still. _February_.” He flexed his fingers and Loki wondered if his hands ever hurt. If maybe the reason he didn’t like February was because the cold and damp bothered them.

Taking another drink, Jane said, “This feels like the calm before the storm, doesn’t it?”

There was a silence, into which the radio played softly, a woman crooning, _And I see your true colors shining through_ …

“As long as Ultimus holds off until I drink a few more of these IPAs,” Wong said.

Strange leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. Glancing towards Loki, Strange asked, “What do you think?”

“About Wong’s IPAs?” Loki asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or about Ultimus? I’ll pass, either way.”

With a snort, Strange asked, “About the wine.”

Loki smiled slightly. There was a chance that he’d made repeated digs at it when Strange had produced the box. Sipping at it, he said, “It’s fine.”

“Not up to your standards, I guess, Your Highness.” There was a crooked pull at the corner of Strange’s mouth, which Loki rolled his eyes at, though not without smiling himself.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve resigned myself to lowering my standards,” Loki said. “Temporarily, at least, while I’m on Midgard.”

“Must be why you’re on your fourth glass of the stuff.”

When Loki smirked at Strange, he saw Jane and Wong exchange a look. “Sometimes,” Loki said, “wine is wine.”

“Wine is always wine,” Jane said.

Chuckling, Strange said, “Spoken like someone who spent half of their adult life in school.”

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong,” Jane said.

“I went to med school, remember? No, you’re definitely not wrong.”

There was a silence from the radio, then another song started. “Oh my god!” Jane exclaimed, jumping up and skidding across the floor in her haste to cross the room. Her socked feet—and the two glasses of whiskey she’d had, probably—made her slide. Loki watched, his brow furrowed in concern, as she reached the radio, then cranked the volume up. At the look Loki was giving her, she asked, “What? I love this song.”

Hard to believe this was the same woman who had passed out in his arms mere months ago, ravaged by cancer. She looked entirely healed—and clearly was, based on how fast she’d moved just to turn up the volume for a mere song.

Then again, art was one of those things that gave life meaning. If you couldn’t act like a fool for those things, then what was the point of any of it?

A woman’s voice came from the radio: _I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire. You come to me come to me wild and wired._

“Who doesn’t love this song?” Strange asked, sipping at his drink. “It’s Tina. It’s a classic.”

Loki raised a hand. “I don’t know it.”

“Asgardians don’t count,” Wong said.

Rolling his eyes, Loki said, “Thanks.”

Wong raised his glass, looking _almost_ amused.

Jane, meanwhile, was…dancing, if it could be called that. She was doing _something_ with her shoulders, at least, wiggling them around and looking like an utter fool, as she did some kind of footwork, her socks still sliding across the hardwood floor. Holding her hand up to her mouth as though she was grasping a microphone, she sang, “ _Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams; speak the language of love like you know what it means_.”

“Time to stop drinking, clearly,” Loki said.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then interrupted her singing to hold out a hand. “Let’s dance.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. When he glanced at Strange, the other man had a hand on his goatee, looking amused.

The song reached its chorus and Strange chuckled, setting his glass down, and said, “I’ve never missed an opportunity to dance to this song—not since they played it at my freshman Sadie Hawkins dance.”

“First kiss?” Wong asked.

Standing up, Strange said, “Almost. Tiffany Johnson. The shoulder poofs on her dress were _almost_ as big as her perm.” Still no laugh from Wong, though he _did_ raise his beer to his mouth, which looked suspiciously to Loki like an attempt to hide a smile.

Jane was still standing there, holding her hand out and wiggling her fingers. “C’mon, Stephen. I have this feeling like you’re probably a great dancer.”

“Oh, yeah. I am. But I save my real moves for all the parties I get invited to.” He grabbed her hand and extended his own, the space stretching between them, before he drew her in and twirled her ridiculously and gracelessly. Laughing, Jane grabbed his other hand, her head and shoulders bobbing, as Strange echoed her movements in a way that was still mortifying to watch, but somehow more graceful. Loki wrapped his hands around his glass and leaned back in his chair, watching them in bemusement.

Jane was the really embarrassing one. She couldn’t dance, not at all, and she looked absolutely delighted by it. There was a grin on Strange’s face, too, as he dipped her and then pulled her back to her feet. But Strange— _Strange_ could dance. Loki could tell by the way he moved his hips, even though he was doing something absurd with his arms, some kind of chugging motion that made Loki snort.

And that made Strange shoot a look over his shoulder, his smile growing wider. What could Loki do but smile back?

“Oh wait wait wait—!” Jane exclaimed, stopping and holding her arms out dramatically, as though everything in the world needed to come to a halt. “This is the bridge, you guys.”

They all obediently waited, Strange looking as though he was barely biting back laughter. The music crescendoed and went into a solo with some kind of piercing, brassy sounding instrument—Loki thought it was called a saxophone?—and then, when the vocals came back, both Jane and Strange began belting out the chorus.

Motioning to Wong, Loki said, “Well? Are you going to get up there and join them?”

“I only sing at karaoke,” Wong replied.

Loki snorted. “Of course.”

Strange and Jane were somehow singing at each other without singing _to_ each other, and it made another smile flicker across Loki’s face. Strange spun; the sort of move that clearly Jane couldn’t pull off, but which looked effortless on his part, and his eyes met Loki’s as the chorus repeated.

_You’re simply the best; better than all the rest; better than anyone, anyone I ever met._

Loki arched an eyebrow and held Strange’s gaze. Norns, he looked stupid, dancing like an idiot, singing like even more of an idiot, his hair flopping over his forehead. That crooked grin was still on his face as he sang to Loki, and Loki rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine. Speaking of lowered standards. Did they _get_ much lower than drinking wine out of a box, watching two humans sing and dance to a song that, if Strange’s comment about school dances was anything to go by, was at least thirty years old?

“ _I’m stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say_ ,” the two of them sang, enthusiastically, if not exactly _well._ Strange wasn’t trying. Loki had heard him sing enough by this point that he knew that Strange actually had quite a good voice.

The song wasn’t bad, really.

If he was honest with himself, which he was very bad at doing, the company wasn’t, either. So what if it took him six months, a near death experience, and drug-assisted slumber to admit it? Even if he never saw any of them again, which was a near-certainty when it came to Strange and Wong, there had been joy in that long stretch of months. It hadn’t been a dream.

* * *

When he woke up, his hip didn’t hurt. But that could have been because the painkiller hadn’t worn off yet. Presumably Banner had invented it for his own needs. If it could knock out pain in Banner’s beast form, it could certainly do the same for Loki. He doubted it had been twenty-four hours, anyway.

Gingerly, he shifted. Still no pain. He sat up slowly, and somehow, this seemed to summon Thor to his side, despite the fact that his brother had been nowhere in sight.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked him, sitting down on the side of the berth.

Loki actually thought about it. Moved his head from side to side, clenched both of his hands into fists, flexed his toes, even though none of these body parts had taken damage. He didn’t feel short of breath anymore, either. But oddly, the feeling of being strangled lingered. The feeling of being strangled and that phantom memory.

_You will never be a god._

Loki had never said those words in his life. And yet, somehow, he remembered saying them. It didn’t make any sense. How could one remember something that had never happened?

“I feel fine,” he said. Thor looked relieved and happy, and Loki actually felt guilty for what he was about to say, because he knew that look of relief and happiness would vanish.

He drew in a deep breath. “How did I die?”

As surely as if Loki had pulled out the Casket of Ancient Winters and aimed its power at his brother, Thor’s expression froze. His hands clenched into fists and his breathing got shallower and quicker. There was a wild look growing in his eye and he seemed to be staring at Loki without truly seeing him.

“Brother,” Loki said, his voice gentler than he’d ever heard himself. “I’m here.”

This brought Thor back. The wild look receded and he looked at Loki, really _looked_ at him. “You are,” Thor said. He sounded surprised. For a moment, he was silent. Then, he put a hand to his eyes. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it.” He subsided into quiet again, and then he added, his voice softer, “I’ve never understood how, either.”

“I know,” Loki said. Did he himself really understand how? Did he _really_ understand the intricacies of time travel, of multiple universes, of what the other version of himself had done? What that other version of himself, a stranger, and yet not a stranger, had given up, so that Loki could have this life? He’d never comprehend it.

Sitting up straighter and leaning forward, he reached out and put his hand on Thor’s forearm. It was a rare display for him. Thor was the touchy-feely one. Loki let the contact that Thor initiated be enough between them. He submitted to it, and in doing so, he figured it was as though he was an equal participant in it. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Thor wouldn’t mind a reassuring pat on the shoulder now and then.

He breathed out slowly, then said again, “Tell me how I died.”

Thor looked at him, clenching and unclenching one fist. “Tell me again what you remember,” he finally said, his voice full of quiet intensity.

Loki nodded. “We were in our cabin on _The Statesman_. I finally worked up the nerve to broach the subject of the wisdom of bringing me back to Earth—a bit late, really, we were well on our way there, but—” He cleared his throat. “—I suppose that’s beside the point.”

_I wouldn’t worry, brother. I feel like everything’s going to work out fine._

It was one of the things that had kept running through his mind as the Valkyrie and he had fought through Thanos’s soldiers, desperately loading as many Asgardians onto ships as they could. _Famous last words, brother_ , he’d thought, over and over. Everything wasn’t going to work out just fine. He was Loki. He should never have fooled himself into thinking otherwise.

“Brunnhilde and I evacuated as many people as we could while you and Heimdall fought. You told me to leave—” Stupid thing to do. “—I didn’t.”

Thor closed his eyes tightly and Loki rushed on. It gave him no pleasure to make both of them relive those terrible hours. “I came back to fight with you and Heimdall. Thanos had already started slaughtering our people because he knew some were getting away.” Thanos would have his half one way or another. His _balance._ “Heimdall went down, and then you did too. I surrendered.” Here, he paused to lick his lips. At the time, he’d wondered if Thor thought he was just trying to save his own life. In reality, he’d been thinking of how to save _all_ of their lives. Three Asgardians had remained on _The Statesman_ at that point and Loki’s mind had raced with half-formed plans to get all of them out alive. Fighting until he was cut down would accomplish nothing.

Forging on, Loki said, “Thanos—” _The Tesseract. Or your brother’s head._ “Thanos tortured you to make me give up the Tesseract.” Loki held Thor’s gaze, daring him to say it again, what he’d said then. “So I gave him the Tesseract.”

_You really are the worst brother._

But Thor remained silent, with only a flash of guilt and regret in his eye to indicate that he remembered, too. Loki twisted his fingers together in his lap. “Banner refused to leave, too. When he transformed into the Hulk, I pulled you out of the way to try to shield you. And that’s when I showed up. I mean, the other version of me, the one from the other universe.”

With a shrug, Loki said, “That’s it. I went to the other universe, I met Strange, I did what I had to do there, and when I came back to this universe, five years had passed. It was only three months for me.”

There was a haunted look on Thor’s face. That day had been the worst of his life. It was the day he’d failed. All his other failures were simply stacked on this foundation. Loki felt a pang of guilt for leaving him, even though it hadn’t been by choice. He would have gone back if he could have. He’d wanted to. He’d tried. The Tesseract hadn’t obeyed him.

Quietly, Thor said, “Thanos said he was going to go to Earth. You offered to go with them as a guide, but you were only doing it to get close to him. You tried to stab him, but he had the Tesseract. He had the Space Stone.” Pausing, Thor gave a watery laugh. Of course he was going to cry. “It was the stupidest, bravest thing I’ve ever seen you do.” Then, he stopped again. “That is, at the time it felt like the bravest thing. I think I have different ideas of bravery now. I’ve seen you do many brave things, brother.”

“Well, some of it’s probably been by accident,” Loki said, as his insides squirmed with discomfort at hearing his brother say something this glowing about him.

Thor swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and he drew a deep, fortifying breath. “He strangled you,” he said in a low tone. “And then he broke your neck and threw you in front of me, and destroyed the ship around me.” His gaze grew faraway. “For the first time in my life, I wanted to die, too.”

Phantom hands squeezed at his throat. This made no sense. It was a ghost of a life that he hadn’t experienced. But Thor had seen it, Thor had lived it. The universe, the Norns, had demanded that Loki die in that moment. But the specific Loki hadn’t really been important. It could be two different Lokis in two different moments, which were somehow the same moment overlaid on each other, happening five years apart and simultaneously. And somehow, it was echoing down to Loki, very much alive in the here and now. Quantum entanglement, he thought again. Weirdness. Or rather, Wyrdness. Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld must have simply thrown up their hands and decided to let the Gods of Mischief work it out themselves.

“You will never be a god,” Loki murmured. Thor looked at him sharply and he knew he was right. “I said that?”

“You mocked him,” Thor said, sounding almost accusing.

“Thor.” Loki pressed his lips together, then sighed. “I knew he was going to kill me. I’d already decided to try to go out doing something worthwhile if Banner failed.” With a bitter twist of a smile, he added, “You don’t disappoint Thanos and get away with it. I suppose I was always living on borrowed time.”

“Don’t say that.” Thor put his hands over his face and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “If it was borrowed time then, isn’t it borrowed time now?”

Loki was silent. Maybe this was a good time to lie. He’d tell a comforting one, at least. _Of course not, brother. I’m here for the long haul. You never have to worry about me again._ That would be alright, wouldn’t it? But instead, he said, “I don’t know.”

Reaching out again, Thor gripped Loki’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure it isn’t.”

With a small, crooked smile, Loki ducked his head a little and said, “You’re not even the God of Thunder anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Thor said.

Loki looked down at his hands in his lap. “On the contrary. You care too much.” Then, shrugging, he said, “I suppose one of us needs to.”

Thor’s hand was still on Loki’s shoulder. It should have been uncomfortable. But Loki was grateful for his brother. He was grateful for the fact that Thor _did_ care. For the fact that everything Loki had done over the years didn’t matter, and that Thor still saw him as the brother he’d fight through hordes to save. Loki had never deserved this kind of love. His biological father had abandoned him, left him to die. And then the Norns had spun out this life for him, tangled threads and knots, with his brother’s stupid, improbable love woven through all of it.

This was probably the painkillers talking.

“I’m not letting you go again, Loki,” Thor said, his voice calm and serious, as though this was something he could control.

And it was stupid. But Loki believed him. That would have to be the painkillers again.

As soon as he wasn’t taking them anymore, he’d know differently. But for now, it was nice to bask in his brother’s affection.

Thor patted his shoulder. “Come on. Get up, you should eat something.”

“I’m not eating Pop Tarts,” Loki said warningly. When Thor made a noise, Loki said, “ _Brother_.”

“Fine, fine.” Thor offered him a hand and reluctantly, Loki allowed him to help him up.

There was ramen, which wasn’t much of an improvement over Pop Tarts. “Look,” Thor said at the look Loki gave him, “we can stop on Kitson and get some more food.”

Loki snorted. “ _Kitson_. Are we only stopping there for food? I’m no prude but the last time I was on Kitson, I was propositioned in ways that were, frankly, shocking.” No reaction. Loki drummed his fingers on the table, then raised his spoon delicately to his lips. “Of course, it’s been awhile. Perhaps a stop on Kitson would be good for me—”

“Alright, stop, you’ve made your point,” Thor said, holding up a hand.

A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth and he relented. “We can stop on Kitson. And—” His smile grew more crooked. “I won’t tell you what I get up to while we’re there.”

Thor rubbed at his eye with a thumb and said, “I should have left you out there.”

“Probably,” Loki agreed.

With a sigh, Thor said, “Eat your ramen.”

* * *

The stop on Kitson was brief. Loki peered into a few of the brothels but decided not to partake. For one thing, they still really didn’t have any money, and he didn’t think Thor would take kindly to him charging an hour of Kitson sex on the royal Asgardian account.

For another, he wasn’t in the mood. A quick lay wasn’t what he was looking for. He didn’t _know_ what he was looking for, but it wasn’t that. Though, looking for something else, let alone _more_ than a quick fuck, felt like setting himself up for disaster. He was good at emotionless sex. The rest of it…not as much.

There was a third consideration, which was the injury he’d sustained while retrieving the piece of Yggdrasil. Nothing was broken, and his mobility wasn’t particularly limited, but when he’d stripped down for the first time to shower in _The Bifrost’s_ cramped bathroom, he got his first look at the massive bruise spreading across his hip. It was deep black and purple, livid against his pale skin, and even though he was used to seeing nasty injuries on his own body, it still took him aback.

Considering that his hips had a high probability of being grabbed during a large number of sex acts, it was better to skip it altogether.

So they bought supplies—including new EVA suits, two this time—and left, and when a sex worker came to their ship and Thor turned her away, Loki raised an eyebrow and asked, “Jane?” Thor had looked away and shrugged. Loki had smiled mirthlessly. Another way they were alike, apparently. No sins of the flesh when their hearts were in the hands of others.

Though Loki no longer thought his heart was in the hands of anyone else. He wondered if it ever truly had been. He was wondering, actually, if he was even capable of that kind of love.

Once back on the ship and in orbit, Loki sat in the pilot’s seat, turning the piece of Yggdrasil over in his hands. It felt warm, the magic in it palpable. With its power thrumming through him, it made him wonder how he hadn’t paid more attention to it when Asgard had still stood. All the time he’d spent reading and studying, everything that he’d thought he’d known, and he’d never once questioned how the Bifrost actually worked, despite the fact that it had been an omnipresent fact in his life.

His mother had called him perceptive, but he hadn’t been nearly as smart as he’d thought he was.

So now that they had the piece of the World Tree, what were they going to do with it? How were they going to use it to reopen the Bifrost? How could they build the machine to do it, and how could they possibly find the power necessary?

Thor had brought up a story that both of them had heard many times when they were children; the story of Yggdrasil’s, and thus the Bifrost’s, origins. Loki had scoffed and remarked, “If we’re relying on fairy tales, then we’re _really_ in trouble.” It was nothing but mythological nonsense, monsters and heroes doing battle across the stars and at the end of it, the World Tree blooming to life. Their father had told them the story, and even if Loki hadn’t had it drilled into his brain when he was young, he’d also run across it in a book that had survived Ragnarok in his pocket dimension. He’d given the book away months ago. It was nothing but lies and half-truths about Asgard, anyway. Not even as helpful as Rhoman the Xandarian’s mostly unhelpful information about Yggdrasil, and _that_ was saying something.

Anyway. He had some thoughts—based on his own musings, not fairy stories. But they were half-formed, and he didn’t like acting on anything less than a fully formed thought.

Sitting in the other seat, Thor watched Loki spin the piece of wood in his hands. Loki knew his brother was dying to ask what they were going to do now, but he held his silence. Probably a good thing. Loki was sure that if Thor were to ask him to vocalize an idea, the fact that he didn’t have a firm one would lead him to take it out on his brother.

Still, he was going to have to say something soon, good idea or not. The Bifrost wasn’t a machine—the Bifrost mechanism only channeled, it didn’t create. It—

“ _—under attack_ ,” a voice said suddenly over the comm.

Loki’s eyes flicked to it. The channel hissed, struggling to pick up the signal, and Thor immediately startled fiddling with it. The hissing got louder as he adjusted the settings, trying to narrow down the channel the message was being transmitted on. “Hello?” Thor said. “Hello, we read you, what’s your location?”

The comm hissed and cut out, then came back. “ _This—merchant vess—aa’aala, requesting immediate aid, we are—ck—_ ”

“Hello!” Thor said, at at a higher volume, as though yelling was going to clear the static from the channel. “We can hear you, what’s your location?”

“ _—peat, this is the merchant vessel—under attack, requesting—iate aid—_ ”

Frustration on his face, Thor asked, “Can we trace it?”

Right, because Loki was a communications expert. Though, to be honest, since they’d begun this little sojourn of theirs almost six months ago, he’d gotten better at it. Just like everything on this ship, he supposed. Maybe wherever he eventually ended up, he could go into that. Ship repair. The fact that he was a god would maybe bring in some business.

Ymir’s bones. What a depressing thought. It would be a place like Kitson, where you could never quite trust that everyone wasn’t trying to scam you. And of course, to be fair, Loki would be a natural fit in a place like that, but Kitson was only a step above Sakaar on his list of places he’d like to settle down permanently.

Tapping a finger on the console, Loki said, “What band are they transmitting on?”

“Delta.”

Loki chewed at the inside of his lip. “Keep trying to raise them. We might be able to get in the general neighborhood even without an answer, though.” Spinning the chair, he knelt, pulled open the access panel in the floor, and dropped through. He crouched belowdecks and made his way to the comm array, removing the cover from it. “Delta,” he muttered, peering at the circuitry.

A green spark leapt from his fingertip to the comm system and Loki watched as it traced a path along the circuit. The comm array in the ship was binaural and the signal had come in almost entirely on the starboard side. Not much, but it was something.

Boosting himself back up onto the deck and replacing the access panel, he said, “Any nearby systems or jump points to starboard?”

“ _That’s_ what you came up with?” Thor asked.

“Did _you_ manage to raise them?” Loki said pointedly. He called up a star chart on the nav screen and twisted his wrist to rotate the perspective, zooming in to find their location. Kitson was in the opposite direction. Krylor wasn’t, but was on the edge of their comm array’s range. The border of the Kree Empire ran right along the edge of the zone of its bandwidth, but Loki didn’t plan on violating Kree space. If someone was in trouble there, they’d have to fend for themselves.

But he didn’t think that was where it was coming from. “Here,” Loki said, scissoring his fingers in a V to zoom on the screen. “This jump point.”

“Shouldn’t we be able to talk to them if they’re that close?” Thor said doubtfully.

Loki flicked a switch to power up their jump drive. “Not necessarily. If something else came through the jump point, the warp in the surrounding space might be interfering with the signal.” The Kitson jump point was nearby, and Loki entered the coordinates for the one he thought the ship was sending out its distress call from. “It’s the best I’ve got, to be honest, so we might as well give it a try.”

But before he turned the ship to head in that direction, he waited for Thor to give his blessing. They were in this together, Loki supposed.

Even if it _was_ Loki’s ship.

Thor nodded. _The Bifrost’s_ engines fired, bringing the ship in an arc, its course set for the jump point fifty klicks distant. It would take twenty minutes to get there. By the time they reached the jump point, jumped, and came out the other side, whatever attack was occurring could well be over. The two of them had usually been successful at getting to ships on time, but then, most of them weren’t under attack by a hostile force. They were going in completely blind. Who knew how many attackers the merchant vessel Something-Or-Another was up against? Loki knew the smart thing to do was to _not_ go barreling in with no plan, just one tiny ship and two Asgardians.

But Thor didn’t exactly do things that way and Loki was afraid his brother was beginning to rub off on him.

What a terrible thought.

The two of them didn’t speak as they headed for the jump point. The transmission continued to hiss on and off, repeating. Loki wondered if whoever had sent it had recorded the message and set it to loop. They might already be dead. He didn’t bother saying this. It wouldn’t stop Thor from going to the rescue.

“Jumping in five,” Loki said, putting his hand on the throttle and counting down silently until the hexes of the jump point opened, flipping out, across, and around them. The jump drive fired up and Thor armed the weapons as they traversed the five light years to the next point.

They came out of the jump point to mostly empty space. Already a better situation than Loki had feared, which was something. There was a ship drifting, one of its engines blown out, pieces of it armor missing. Another ship was near it, its guns cooling but not currently engaged.

“I don’t believe it,” Thor said, his voice a mix of dangerous and incredulous. “They wouldn’t dare.”

As Thor stomped over to the comm, Loki said, “Is that someone you know?”

Thor ignored him and growled, “Put your EVA suit on.” Baffled, Loki watched as Thor opened a channel and growled, “Quill? Rocket? Stay exactly where you are. And open the airlock. We’re coming over.”

Loki’s heart sank. “Oh no. Quill? That isn’t—?”

“Yes it is,” Thor said, popping the ring of his EVA suit over his mouth. “And we’re going to find out why the Guardians of the Galaxy just attacked that ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for continuing to hang out with Loki and Thor! And...the Guardians? 🤔 I hope you're still enjoying the ride. Drop me a comment if you'd like! I love hearing from all of you! 💚 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m telling you, man, we didn’t attack them!” Peter Quill, aka Star Lord, former space looter and professional idiot, scrambled backwards to get away from Thor, who was striding towards him with a thunderous expression on his face. “We’re the _Guardians_ of the Galaxy, not the Jerks Who Attack Random Ships of the Galaxy!”

“Real good with words, ain’t he,” Rocket Raccoon said with a roll of his eyes.

“I am Groot,” said a figure off to the side, which Loki had assumed was a potted plant until that moment.

Loki turned the ring for his EVA suit over in his hands, running his fingernails through the grooves on it, and asked with interest, “Is that a _Flora colossus_?”

Rocket returned his look with complete and utter disdain. “What’s it to you?”

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, this is the guy. Doesn’t really seem like he was worth Thor moping around about, does he?”

“I am Groot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki demanded.

Sounding very much as though he agreed with what the _Flora colossus_ had just implied, Rocket said sarcastically, “Oh nooo, don’t say _that_. We don’t wanna hurt anyone’s delicate _feelings._ ”

Thor had Quill cornered at the front of the ship, and the human looked at Rocket and the tree, clearly very affronted, and said, “Guys? Hello?”

It was difficult for Loki to disagree that they needed a distraction, considering they’d just insulted him. The tree moved, stretching out an arm, which branched and twined until its hand settled on Thor’s shoulder. “I am Groot,” it—he?—said. The fact that he’d touched Thor so easily rankled Loki. Who were these people, that they thought they could be so—so familiar with his brother?

The answer, of course, was that they were his brother’s friends, and they had every right to be familiar. They were the family he’d found because Loki had died. Loki had abandoned him, so Thor had replaced him.

Thor turned around and appraised the tableau behind him. “Truly, Tree?” he asked.

“I mean, Quill’s got a point,” Rocket said. “We’re more about saving people than shooting them full of holes.” He paused. “Unless they deserve it. Then we shoot them full of holes.”

There were footsteps behind them. Loki turned to see three more misfits appear on the bridge. The crew, he supposed. Or was he meant to think of them as the Guardians of the Galaxy? There was a woman with antennae, a man that rivaled Thor for bulging muscles, and a half Luphomoid/half-cyborg woman.

With a start, Loki realized he recognized her. She met his eyes, and though her gaze remained expressionless, the way she stared told him that she recognized him too. Suddenly, he was further on edge that he’d already been. She was a part of his past that he didn’t want to relive and didn’t want to discuss, particularly in front of Thor.

“It is good to see you, Pirate Angel,” the large, tattooed man said. He would have to be Drax. ‘Pirate Angel,’ for heaven’s sake. Clearly, he rivaled Thor for lack of intellect, too. The woman with the antennae was Mantis, Loki thought, and the Luphomoid—Nebula? Thanos’s daughter. Thor had mentioned all of their names, and though Loki had been determined not to remember any of them, apparently he’d failed.

“Did you come here to visit us?” Mantis asked, sounding as though Yule had come early. Maybe several centuries’ worth of Yules. It made Loki purse his lips and narrow his eyes. Was his brother _really_ that exciting?

Thor looked around at all of them, his expression confused. “I came because we picked up a distress call. _Their_ distress call,” he added, gesturing out the viewscreen towards the other ship. “And we found you. You’re really telling me you didn’t attack them?”

“ _No_ ,” Quill said. “We picked up their distress call too. We’re just the big damn heroes who _saved_ them. That’s kind of our thing? That’s what we do?”

“Right,” Thor said. He looked at Rocket. “Who attacked them?”

Quill looked deeply put out. “Um, still the captain,” he muttered.

“We would still prefer you, Pirate Angel,” Drax said.

“ _Dude!_ Not cool!”

Hopping up onto one of the chairs on the bridge, Rocket said, “Couldn’t tell who attacked them. I recognize most ships but I’ve never seen that kind. Didn’t get a look at any of them, either; they were gone before we got over there, and the crew didn’t manage to take any of them out.”

Loki had been staring at the other ship throughout this conversation—it was actually making him less intelligent the longer he listened to it—but as his eyes followed the curve of its bow and the shape of the wings, a realization hit him with a start. He took several steps forward until he was at the front of the bridge, brushing past Quill, ignoring the other man when he made an affronted noise. “That’s an Asgardian ship,” Loki said, hooking a hand on the lip of the ceiling that came down over the viewscreen.

“Sure is, genius,” Rocket said. Loki gave him a withering look.

Thor looked thunderstruck, pun entirely intended. “Are there survivors?”

“ _Ha_ , are there survivors,” Quill repeated, like this was a moronic question. Both Thor and Loki turned to him.

Raising his eyebrows, Loki said, “It wasn’t a rhetorical question.” Part of him thought about adding that this was solely due to the fact that his brother didn’t know what ‘rhetorical’ meant, but the little niggling insecurity that had been worrying at the back of his brain since they’d set foot on this ship had turned into full blown anxiety. Thor had once abandoned Earth, abandoned New Asgard, abandoned their people, to fly around the galaxy with these idiots. If Loki was mean, wasn’t it possible that Thor might abandon him, too?

From the back of the bridge, Nebula said, “There were no Asgardians on board.” Loki’s and Thor’s gazes shifted to her. She looked from one of them to the other, as though she didn’t know what to do with their attention. But then, she shrugged and said, “I asked.”

Loki turned back to the viewscreen, looking at the ship. “It’s an old model,” he said. “I didn’t recognize it right away.” He glanced over his shoulder and said, “We were only children when the Einherjar stopped using these.”

“Einherwhat?” Quill said. Everyone ignored him.

Thor joined him at the front of the bridge, planting his hands on his hips and staring. Then, he asked, “Did the crew on the ship tell you anything? What the attackers wanted, if they took anything?”

“You can talk to them,” Rocket said, jerking one of his little clawed thumbs over his shoulder. “Just try not to blast Quill’s music in their ears like he did when we first answered their distress call.”

_Traitor_ , Quill mouthed to him. Rocket shrugged.

Thor picked up the comm system and hailed the other ship. While the Guardians milled around the bridge, Loki listened to Thor’s conversation. It was uneventful. The crew on the Asgardian ship confirmed they definitely weren’t Asgardian, had in fact never met an Asgardian, and had bought their ship on Contraxia from Ravagers, who in turn had gotten it from a group of Krylorians. Who knew how many hands it had passed through since it had been scuttled, or lost, by the Einherjar? Loki couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride that the ship floating out there was probably fifteen hundred years old, and once that engine was repaired, it would be going strong again. The attackers had come out of nowhere, disabled the ship, boarded it, and searched everywhere, demanding everyone line up. They’d asked where everyone on the crew was from, and after they’d been told, they’d shot some of them with some kind of weapon that no one was familiar with. It hadn’t seemed to have any effect on anyone, so the captain assumed it was malfunctioning.

“ _We thought they were going to kill us_ ,” the captain said as the conversation wound down. “ _One of them said they should send a message. They said, ‘let them come to us.’_ ”

Perfect. Another group of melodramatic space criminals. Just what the galaxy needed.

When Thor thanked the captain and closed the channel, he looked baffled. Granted, this was a frequent state of being for him, but this time, Loki didn’t blame him. The two of them looked at each other. Then a voice said from behind Loki, “Who is this skinny, pale person? He looks unimpressive next to you, Pirate Angel.”

Loki crossed his arms over his chest. “Does he think your name is Pirate Angel?” he asked Thor.

“No,” Thor scoffed. Then, he looked at Drax, looking suddenly doubtful. “You don’t, do you?”

Drax laughed heartily but didn’t answer, which didn’t exactly clarify things.

“I suppose I should introduce everyone,” Thor said, as though such a thing had never occurred to him. There was a funny look on his face, vaguely queasy, as though the fact that these two very separate pieces of his life had now collided had brought on a sudden bout of gastroenteritis. Well, Loki wasn’t exactly happy to be there either. All the Guardians were staring at him now. But then Thor looked at him and smiled. “This is my brother, Loki.”

“Ohhh,” Mantis said, her eyes widening. “The one who made you so sad because he died.”

“Er, yes,” Thor said.

Mantis’s antennae twitched forward. “I have never felt such deep grief, such sadness, your soul was so hurt—”

“Yes, yes, anyway,” Thor said loudly, waving a hand. Loki folded his hands in front of his hips and looked at the floor to hide the fact that he was biting back a smile. Not at Thor’s grief, but—well, it was nice to be missed. Clearing his throat, Thor said, Loki, these are my friends, there’s Mantis, Drax, Nebula, Groot, Rocket, and Quail—sorry, Quill.”

Rocket lifted a paw and waved slightly. “We’ve met.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Quill said, “Yeah, you hit me with some kind of magic spell or something last time I saw you.”

“Did I?” Loki said, arching an eyebrow. “Well, you know, the confusion of battle.” This didn’t seem to mollify Quill. At least Nebula didn’t volunteer that she, too, had met Loki, and that their meeting had come long before that battle in Norway.

Drax was looking from Thor to Loki. “You do not look at all alike.”

“No, well, Loki’s adopted,” Thor said.

Appraising him, Drax said, “He must be adopted from a race of pasty, noodle-limbed weaklings. Quill, maybe he is Terran like you.”

Odd feeling, being united in affront with Quill. What did he call himself? Star Lord? Though Loki couldn’t deny being runty; it was, after all, the reason his biological father had abandoned him to die. Still, he only looked small compared to Thor. _Everyone_ looked small compared to Thor, it was the least fair comparison in the galaxy.

“I assure you,” Loki said, disdain dripping from his voice, “that none of you can possibly hope to best me in combat.”

“Wanna bet on it?” Rocket asked, studying his claws.

“Oh, yes please!” Mantis said.

Thor put his hands up, looking alarmed at how quickly this situation was getting away from him. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Loki had never played well with others, particularly Thor’s friends. “No one needs to prove they can best anyone else in combat,” he said. “We don’t need any fistfights.”

Loki sniffed. “Who said anything about fistfights?” he asked. “I have knives.”

At Mantis’s delighted sound, Thor glared at Loki. Quill stepped forward and said, “Okay, hey, this has been really fun and everything, great catching up with you Thor, but we really have to be getting back to guarding the galaxy.”

“I thought we were on our way to return an overdue library book on Xandar,” Nebula said from where she was leaning against the bulkhead at the back of the bridge.

“ _And_ saving people along the way,” Quill said, gesturing towards the viewscreen.

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Loki said, “You know, brother, I can see why you took so easily to these…people.”

The _Flora colossus_ turned his head to look at Loki. “I am Groot,” he said.

“Nah, I don’t think he meant it in a nice way either, Groot,” Rocket said flatly.

Wrinkling his nose in contempt, Loki said, “How shockingly perceptive of you.”

Nebula rolled her eyes and Thor glared at him again. It was hard not to feel himself falling back into the role that he’d always occupied within Thor’s social circle, that of the perpetually slighted, perpetually pushed to the background, perpetually sullen younger brother. He wasn’t sure if it had been easier to tolerate with the Warriors Three and Sif than with these morons.

“I am Groot,” the tree said.

Thor smiled at him. “Thank you, Tree. I remember my time with all of you fondly, but Loki and I have our own…” He trailed off, clearly having not thought through the concept he was trying to convey. Loki stared at him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest, and Thor just finished, “We’re sort of like you all, I suppose.”

“There cannot be two Guardians of the Galaxies,” Drax said. “It would be confusing. No one would know who they were trying to call.”

“No, see, we’re the _As_ gardians of the Galaxy,” Thor said. “It’s a play on words. You’re the Guardians, we’re the Asgardians. It’s funny.”

“It’s not that funny,” Nebula said, her voice low.

“It was not funny the first ten times you said it, either,” Drax informed him.

It turned out, having now met the full Guardians contingent, that being there really _didn’t_ improve the joke.

“Thor,” Loki said. “As much as I hate to agree with anyone on this ship, it probably _is_ time that we left.”

Quill looked at him flatly, obviously recognizing the insult. Not that Loki had been trying for subtlety, but he was still a bit surprised. None of these people had impressed him with their intellect. “On second thought,” Quill said to Thor, “feel free to stick around for awhile. We can—” He looked like he was trying not to gag on his words. “—catch up.”

Loki shot a look at Thor, but Thor ignored him. “Yes, I think we will.”

“I’ll go back to the ship,” Loki muttered, but Thor grabbed his shoulder, his fingers digging into the leather so hard that it was probably going to leave a bruise.

Out of the corner of his mouth Thor said, “No, you will not.”

Loki considered playing the injury card. His hip was starting to truly ache, but it wasn’t so bad that he needed their dwindling supplies of Stark-brand Hulk-grade painkillers. As far as lies went, though, it wasn’t one he had qualms about telling. But something stopped him. As the crew filed out of the bridge to their common area in a different part of the ship, Loki reluctantly followed, rubbing at his shoulder where Thor had manhandled it. Nebula glanced at him again before she left the bridge, which made his steps falter. The absolute last thing he wanted—which was saying something, at the moment—was to speak to her about any of their shared…history.

So he hung back, feigning a sudden need to adjust his leathers, until Nebula departed. Loki’s hand absently drifted from his shoulder to his chest, then he dropped it back to his side.

For the next several hours, he was forced to endure the imbecilic conversation between the Guardians and his brother, who thankfully made no attempt to include him in it. Most of it was recounting whatever antics they’d gotten up to in their time together. Loki wasn’t sure how any of them had managed to survive this long. And frankly, he wasn’t sure how his brother had managed to survive while he’d been slumming it with them.

At long, _long_ last, Thor thumped his palms down on the table they were all sitting around and said, “My friends, we really must be getting back. We have our own business to return to.” Loki got to his feet. He’d been beginning to feel like they were never going to leave and he was going to have to spend the next sixty years sitting there with these…people.

They all said their good-byes—excluding Loki, obviously—and the crew scattered to different points of the ship. As Thor and Loki made their way back to the bridge, where their EVA suits had been left, Thor said, “You could have tried harder, you know.”

“I assure you, brother, I was trying as hard as I possibly could,” Loki said.

Looking at him in wary surprise, Thor said, “Were you?”

“Oh, yes. I was trying _extremely_ hard not to throw myself out of this ship’s airlock in pure despair of ever hearing a halfway intelligent conversation again.”

Thor sighed in frustration and opened his mouth, but then a voice said, “Hey. Thor.”

Both of them looked up to see Rocket above them, limbs spread-eagled to hold himself in the beams. How long had he been up there listening?

Swinging down from the ceiling and landing on all fours with a clang, the animal stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the bulkhead. “I gotta talk to you.”

“Yes, of course,” Thor said, sounding as though this was the most important thing anyone had said to him in weeks and following Rocket as he made his way deeper into the ship, _away_ from the bridge, their EVA suits, and escape from this place.

Loki stood there, then sighed and followed them. When Rocket glanced over his shoulder, he said, “Oh yeah, I guess he can come too, though it looks like he already decided to.”

With a glance over his shoulder, Thor said, “You can say what you have to say in front of my brother. He’s trustworthy.”

“Are you sure?” Loki asked with a dark smile.

Thor gave him the tiniest shake of his head, a clear _don’t do this_ , then turned back to Rocket. “What is it?”

There was a silence. The rodent seemed to be considering his words carefully. Then, Rocket said, “I think you should watch out. Something’s off about whoever attacked that ship.”

“It sounds like they were just pirates,” Thor said, shrugging. “And sooner or later, they’re going to feel the wrath of the Mighty—” But he stopped, and Loki raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest in the silence, even though Thor wasn’t looking at him. Thor cleared his throat. “—They’ll feel my wrath,” he said. “If they’re not careful.”

Rocket shrugged. It was kind of him to refrain from commenting on the flimsiness of this threat. “You’re probably right. Thing is, I know you’re however many thousands of years old or whatever, but I’ve been at this game for a long time too. Not thousands of years long, but I’ve spent a lot of time hanging around scumbags and losers and other assorted space trash. And I’ll tell you right now, pirates don’t board a ship, look around, leave everyone alive, and split. They were looking for something and they didn’t find it. Which means they’re _still_ looking for it.”

Thor’s brow creased. “What are you saying?”

With another shrug, Rocket said, “I just think it’s funny it was an Asgardian ship they attacked and they made sure to ask where everyone was from.”

Loki cocked his head, his own brow furrowed. Something about this interaction had finally become worthwhile. Possibly. “You think they were looking for Asgardians? Why?” The captain of that ship _had_ said their attackers had suggested sending a message.

Holding up his paws, Rocket said, “I don’t think anything. I’m just saying, is all. You might want to be careful out there.”

Thor leaned back against the bulkhead, crossing his arms over his chest and looking thoughtful. He met Loki’s eyes and Loki knew what he was thinking, so he said it for both of them. “Every Asgardian left is on Earth.”

Pointedly, Rocket said, “Yeah, except you two.”

Thor shook his head. “If someone was looking for Asgardians, it would be much easier to find them there, though. Not flying around space hoping to run into one.”

“Sure,” Rocket said. “Except maybe people don’t wanna mess with Earth right now. You know, it ain’t the same planet that we all used to laugh at, ever since the Avengers beat Thanos there. If you’re a galactic scumbag sitting on the dark side of some moon somewhere counting your units, you maybe think twice about causing trouble there. No one wants the Avengers on their ass.” He shrugged again. “Just something to think about.”

The fact that Rocket had said he’d used to laugh at Earth was the first time Loki had felt a twinge of something besides dislike for him.

“Thank you for the warning, Rabbit,” Thor said.

“Yeah, sure.” With that, Rocket looked between them, grimaced as his eyes fell on Loki, and walked away, though not without a glance over his shoulder.

The two of them, on the other hand, remained there. “Do you think this is something we should worry about?” Thor asked quietly.

Loki looked up and down the corridor to see if any of the Guardians were hanging around listening, but he couldn’t see any of them. “I don’t know why anyone would be looking for Asgardians,” he said. “Regardless of what the raccoon says.”

“So you’re not worried.”

“I didn’t say that.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “But what would anyone want with one of us? Besides the Collector; I suppose we _are_ a critically endangered species. Or possibly the Grandmaster, depending on the outcome of the revolution. He’s probably either very angry at the Lord of Thunder—”

“Or looking to get another champion for his bloody contest,” Thor said darkly.

Loki sniffed. “Banner would be quite the disappointment to him at the moment.”

Rubbing a hand over his beard, Thor said, “I trust Rocket’s judgement.”

Bitterness clutched at Loki’s chest, even though he knew it was unfair. Thor had repeatedly demonstrated that he trusted Loki’s too. But coming upon the Guardians of the Galaxy had reminded him of all the times in their youth that Thor had dismissed him in favor of his friends’ opinions, and of the deep and abiding resentment that had cratered his soul. A fissure of acrimony felt like it had just cracked apart in his sternum, which he thought he’d been able to close.

_Not as much progress as you thought, then?_

“Why am I not surprised?” Loki snapped.

Thor looked at him, his jaw working, but all he said was, “His advice has always been sound. Just because you don’t like these people doesn’t make their opinions worthless.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort with something witty and biting, but Thor turned and walked away, his shoulders tense. That left Loki in the awkward position of desperately wanting to leave, but also not wanting to look like he was skulking after his brother after having lost an argument.

With a hard sigh, he clenched his fists, then went to follow Thor.

“Hold it for a second, pretty boy.”

Sharp claws scratched Loki’s neck as a paw closed around the collar of his leathers. Loki had to fight the urge to lash out and bat away the intrusion. He knew it was only Rocket, which meant that he’d snuck back and had probably heard everything that had just happened between Thor and Loki. Instead, Loki said venomously, “Don’t touch me.”

Rocket rolled his eyes. He was perched at Loki’s eye level on a stack of pipes, and there was a sneer on his face. “Yeah, sure, wouldn’t want to mess up the royal hairdo. Listen, you and I have to have a talk.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, gave Rocket a hard smile, and let out one sharp exhale of laughter. “I don’t think we do.”

He started to walk away, but then Rocket’s voice stopped him with, “I better not find out that you’re being a jerkass to your brother.”

This made Loki stop. Against his will, he turned, then made his way back to where Rocket was hanging onto the pipes. “I beg your pardon?”

Rolling his eyes again, Rocket said, “What, my language not fancy enough for you? Let me spell it out in terms someone like you can understand. I got a soft spot for Thor and I know how much _you_ mean to him. So if it turns out that you’re treating him like shit, you’re going to be hearing from me.”

Loki laughed. “Hearing from you,” he repeated. “Am I supposed to be frightened for my life? I’ve faced worse foes than you, rodent.”

Rocket smiled back unpleasantly. “Pretty sure my laser cannon works just as well on Asgardians as it does on anyone else. And when your guts are splattered all over an asteroid out in some unnamed system somewhere, no one will be able to tell the difference between a crappy god and anyone else.”

“Mm.” Loki’s smile became meaner and his nose wrinkled. “I’m Jotun, not Asgardian.”

“You think I care what you are?” Rocket asked. He bared his teeth. “I _know_ what you are, loser. You wanna call yourself Asgardian, you wanna call yourself Jotun, it doesn’t matter. Hey, you know what?” He jabbed a finger in Loki’s chest. “I’m gonna do you a favor, because someone once told _me_ this when _I_ didn’t deserve it, but I sure as hell needed to hear it.”

“This should be riveting,” Loki muttered.

“Yeah, you know what? It will be. So listen up. You think you’re _so_ bad and mean, oooh, a _Frost Giant_ , I’m _so_ scared. What’s your thing, you’re blue? We got a blue alien, and she’s a _lot_ scarier than you.” Loki glared, but Rocket continued sneeringly, “You’re the God of Lies, right? The guy who tried to use a pathetic Chitauri army to take over Earth? And now, _now_ you have someone who puts up with you, and you spend all your time insulting him and pushing him away. Right?” When Loki got very still, Rocket said, “Yeah, I get it. I get you. You hate when people _love_ you. You don’t think you _deserve_ it. You know what? You’re probably right.”

“Take care, rodent,” Loki said, his voice soft and dangerous. “You may be my brother’s friend, but I won’t stand here and be insulted indefinitely.”

Rocket laughed. “What’s your plan, greaseball, you going to kill me? That’ll go over _real_ well. Look, I told you. I’ve been around scumbags for a _long_ time. I _was_ a scumbag for a long time. I know one when I see one. And _you_ , buddy, are a scumbag if I ever saw one.”

For a moment, Loki stood there. He didn’t like cruelty to animals, but just this once, he thought he’d make an exception.

His arm shot out and he caught Rocket around the throat, lifting him off his perch and slamming him back against the wall. “You think you know me?” he hissed. “You have no _idea_ who I am. You have no idea who my brother is. We’re _gods_ , you pathetic creature. We’ve been fighting together for centuries. Your months on this ship with Thor when he was at his lowest does _not_ make you worthy of judging me or our relationship.”

Rocket laughed despite the chokehold Loki had on him. “You really _are_ that dense, aren’t you?” Laughing again, he sneered, “Thor learned to live without you once, buddy, and he can learn how to do it again. Only this time, it’ll be all _your_ fault that he gets driven away. No Thanos needed.”

This was the nerve Rocket was aiming for. His aim was perfect. Loki’s lip curled in a snarl and he tightened his grip without realizing he was doing it. With a growl, Rocket whipped a paw out, raking his claws across the inside of Loki’s wrist between where his demi-gaunt ended and his sleeve began.

Loki swore and released him, dropping him to the floor. Rocket landed gracefully on all fours. Between that and the cuts on his wrist, already oozing blood slowly, it was everything he could do not to fling Rocket to the other end of the hallway with a blast of magic. This was irrational, a small part of his mind whispered.

_The rodent is right_.

With an inarticulate growl, Loki whirled and followed his brother to the ship’s bridge. If he ever saw these people again, he might just kill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the Guardians! This chapter is pretty pivotal so fingers crossed you all liked it 😊 As always, thank you for reading! I always love hearing what everyone thinks, so if you'd like, please drop me a comment! Kudos are also greatly appreciated.
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	20. Chapter 20

Loki flung his demi-gaunt at the wall of _The Bifrost_ once he’d removed his EVA suit, grabbing his wrist to look at the cuts that gods damned animal had slashed across his skin. They stung far out of proportion to their severity. That made him even angrier. Fuming, he went to retrieve the medical kit. His hip was throbbing now and he didn’t care that there were only two painkiller injections left. He unwrapped one and jabbed it his arm. The relief in both his hip and his wrist was immediate, but it did nothing to soothe the rage pounding against his temples.

His teeth gritted, he rooted through the kit until he found a bottle of alcohol. The last thing he needed was for these cuts to get infected and for his hand to rot off. As he liberally doused the wound, not caring that they didn’t have any more on the ship (unless you counted Thor’s supply of beer, and Loki had little interest in pouring Tropicalia IPA onto an open wound), Thor cautiously approached him and said, “Brother? What happened?”

As the alcohol seeped into the wound, Loki hissed in pain, despite the analgesic. “Nothing,” he snapped.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Thor peered over Loki’s shoulder, chuckling. “I leave you alone for three minutes and you manage to hurt yourself.”

“Shut up, Thor,” Loki said, his voice tight with fury. The pain was starting to ebb away. It didn’t improve his mood.

Thor reached out and grabbed Loki’s arm, forcing him to bare his wrist. “Did Rocket attack you?” he asked in surprise. “What did you do to him?”

“What did _I_ do to _him?_ ” Loki snarled. “That vermin attacked _me_ and you want to know what _I_ did wrong?” Yanking his arm out of Thor’s grip, Loki glared venomously at his brother. “I suppose that’s fitting though, isn’t it? After all, I _am_ the one that no one trusts. Or likes, for that matter.”

Thor looked like he’d been smacked across the face. “Loki, where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice cautious.

But Loki didn’t answer, instead shoving past Thor and walking to the pilot’s chair, where he sat down heavily, his leathers _thwumping_ with the force of it. Without looking over his shoulder, he could feel Thor standing there, watching him. But his brother didn’t approach. Loki might have hit him if he had.

_Thor learned to live without you once, buddy, and he can learn how to do it again._

His jaw clenched, and this time it wasn’t because the pain was physical. It was true. In his heart, Loki knew it was true. No—that made it sound as though this was some sort of of deep-seated, long-buried fear. And it wasn’t, was it? It sat just below the surface, constantly roiling, tearing at him through every moment of every day, no matter how much he tried to push it down and ignore it. The only reason he ever fooled himself that it was otherwise was because he was a practiced, accomplished liar. He could lie to anyone and everyone, _had_ lied to anyone and everyone, from strangers to Einherjar to Thor’s friends, from Avengers to Thanos, from his father, to his mother, to Thor.

And he lied to no one more than himself.

Was he lying to himself that he’d changed? Was he lying to himself that he was rewriting who everyone expected him to be, who he himself had decided he had no choice but to become? Was he still the monster whose fate was to be abandoned?

If he was—then he should be the one to do it first. The beauty of pushing everyone away was that if you pushed, then people would do exactly what you expected them to do.

The piece of Yggdrasil was sitting where he’d left it the console. Another thing he’d been lying to himself about. They would never reopen the Bifrost. It was a dream, just like everything good he’d ever thought he could have. Thor would tire of him long before they figured out a way to do it. Even if they managed to pull it off, it would only result in Thor abandoning him, because they would have accomplished what they needed to. Why would Thor stay with him if there wasn’t something to be gained from it?

Or there was the likeliest outcome of all: Loki would find a way to betray Thor. That was what he did. Even when he told himself he wasn’t going to, it was what he did. He couldn’t help it.

He clenched his fists.

No.

He didn’t have to be who he’d been. He could be someone new. He _could be someone new_.

_You’ve always been the God of Mischief. But you could be more._

_You hate when people love you. You don’t think you deserve it. You know what? You’re probably right._

His head was pounding. He felt phantom hands squeezing his neck. What had Thor said to him after he’d pulled him in from space, when Loki’s EVA suit was dead and he was suffocating? _Of course I came to get you._ Like it was obvious. Like it was nothing. Like Loki should expect nothing else. As though Thor had always come for him, instead of abandoning him, leaving him at the mercy of every evil, horrible person in the galaxy. After his Fall, no one had come for him. They’d let him suffer. They’d ignored his cries for help, his pleas for rescue. Heimdall, Odin, Frigga, Thor, all of them.

Loki took his other demi-gaunt off, clenched it in his hand, and then threw it against the viewscreen as hard as he could. He thought Thor might ask him again what was wrong, but he didn’t.

* * *

“I made you dinner,” Thor said, sliding the bowl of freeze dried egg noodle across the console.

Loki raised an eyebrow and glanced over at it. One of his heels was propped up on the edge of the console and the other was on the floor, his leg stretched out to the side. Fleetingly, the idea of apologizing ran through his head. He decided not to. If Thor couldn’t handle _that_ minor tantrum, then he’d be gone within the month. He might swim off through space with or without the EVA suit.

Reaching out a hand, Loki extended a finger, put it on the edge of the bowl, and slowly pulled it closer. After a second, he picked up the spoon that Thor had thoughtfully supplied, stirring the Kitson onion into the sauce. The noodles puffed up, absorbing it.

Thor leaned against the console, folding his arms over his chest, and watched Loki continue to stir the noodles. The scratches on his wrist were scabbed over. Thor’s gaze lingered on them. Loki stared at him flatly, daring him to say something about it.

These days, of course, Thor displayed more circumspection. All he said was, “If you’re not going to eat it, I am.”

“You already ate,” Loki said. “I heard you.”

“You know, no offense, but…” Thor trailed off. When Loki looked at him, Thor gave him a tiny, nearly imperceptible smile, and continued, “If that’s your idea of deductive reasoning, you’re probably getting rusty.”

A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth. “Big words.”

Thor’s eyebrows went up. “Would it kill you to be nice? Just once in awhile?”

“Possibly,” Loki replied. He blew at the steam rising off the noodles and raised a spoonful to his mouth. Food was almost always too hot for him. As a boy he’d thought it was because he preferred his food lukewarm, but after the night in the weapons vault, he’d come to understand that many of his odd little quirks could be explained by his Jotun heritage. An unusually high tolerance for cold temperatures, a preference for lukewarm to tepid food and beverage, hands that were always on this side of chilly.

It suddenly occurred to him that the palace kitchen had likely been preparing his food cooler than anyone else’s, at his parents’ request. Did the staff wonder about that? Or would they simply have assumed this was another of Prince Loki’s oddities? He was fragile, delicate, girlish. Didn’t this fit right in?

This was a spiral. The palace staff had likely thought nothing of the sort. Loki had been different, but not _so_ different that anyone had suspected the truth. They’d let his food cool before serving it. End of story.

Whether Thor had just shown him the same courtesy or the heating element in the kitchen was fried again was anyone’s guess.

“Listen,” Thor said. “We got the piece of Yggdrasil. We need to figure out what to do next. And I had an idea.”

Loki opened his mouth to say something like _that’s unusual_ , but stopped himself at the last second. Instead, he ate another mouthful of noodle and replied, “Which is?”

Thor was watching him eat, like he wasn’t sure that Loki would actually do it if he didn’t make him. This mother-hen tendency was new. Or maybe it had been there all along, but Thor had finally learned to embrace it. A calm, rational part of Loki’s mind poked him and said, _See? He’s_ happy _you’re here, he won’t abandon you._

Of course, Loki was only good at paying attention to the calm, rational part of his mind when he wasn’t approaching his lowest ebb. And he was slipping.

With mental effort, he dug his fingernails in and pulled himself back from the ledge. Thor’s expression flickered with—maybe concern, maybe trepidation, maybe just worry that Loki was losing it and he was going to have to do something about it. But when he spoke, his tone was even. “I was thinking we should go to Nidavellir.”

Loki put his spoon down. This actually wasn’t a bad idea. But all he said was, “Nidavellir.”

“Yes.” Thor looked towards the back of the ship, then returned his gaze to Loki. “I don’t know who built the mechanism in the Observatory, but if I had to guess, it was the dwarves of Nidavellir. We may be able to find plans, if the Black Order didn’t destroy them.”

Chopping a noodle in half, Loki asked, “Did the Black Order destroy much there?”

With an uncomfortable shrug, Thor said, “I didn’t look around much.” His gaze took on the far away nature that it did when he was thinking about Asgard, or the Nine Realms, or _The Statesmen_ , or their family, or Loki himself in the years between _The Statesman_ and his reappearance. Listed out like that, it was no wonder Thor was getting to be as moody and melancholy as Loki was. “Anyway,” he said, “we’re going to need a source of power to start the Bifrost up again. A serious source of power. What better than the heart of a dying star?”

Another not bad idea from his brother. Loki glanced out the viewscreen at the stars streaming by. “I thought the oculus was broken on the dwarves’ machine.”

“We can fix it if we need it. But maybe we won’t need it.”

“Are you counting on our plucky spirit and can-do attitude to reopen the Bifrost?” Loki asked, arching an eyebrow.

Thor laughed. “Well, it’s something.”

Despite himself, Loki smiled too. Something in him calmed. He hoped Thor wouldn’t bring up the Guardians. It was impossible to decide if he was mortified by how bitter and jealous he’d gotten, or annoyed that he hadn’t actually killed someone. “Alright,” he said. He hesitated, then added, “It’s better than anything I’ve been able to come up with.”

Looking surprised to hear Loki admit this, Thor said, “Well, this whole thing was your idea. I don’t doubt you’ll think of something clever to make the Bifrost open once the time comes.”

Loki dropped his eyes to his food and stirred it. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re putting too much faith in me. It’s your perennial mistake.”

When he flicked his eyes back up, Thor was staring at him, looking like he wanted to say something but unable to decide what it should be. Finally, he just said, “Finish your dinner.”

With a soft snort of laughter, Loki did as Thor said. As he spooned up the rest of the noodles, he said, “Should I set a course for Nidavellir?”

Cheerfully, Thor said, “I already did.”

Loki gave him a flat look.

Ignoring this—willfully, and he wasn’t fooling anyone—Thor went on, “When you were in the shower. We already went through the jump point, but it will still be a few days from there.”

“I thought I felt us jump,” Loki muttered.

“Well, you’re very perceptive, brother.”

“You’re not allowed to mock me,” Loki said.

With a chuckle, Thor said, “Of course I’m allowed to mock you. That’s what big brothers do.”

Loki didn’t have an argument for this, mostly because it was so idiotic that there _was_ no argument for it. So he just made a derisive noise and concentrated on scraping the last dregs of noodles out of his bowl.

It was sixty-six hours galactic standard hours, actually, which weren’t the same length as Earth hours. A galactic standard day also didn’t have twenty-four hours in it. Thor was blending the two together. Oh well, no one really used galactic standard consistently, anyway. Nova had tried to disseminate its use through the galaxy, because that was the sort of thing Nova did. It wasn’t as though Asgard hadn’t had its own timekeeping system, but they’d been perfectly content to let the other Realms keep theirs.

Then again, maybe the other Realms would have preferred to have kept their sovereignty, their gold, and their people alive. Odin’s campaign of blood was a far cry from the way Nova had united its member states.

It was funny how things worked out. For years, Loki had been justifying what he’d tried to do to Jotunheim and Earth as a pale shadow of what Odin himself had done. But he’d had no idea of the extent of his father’s conquest, of the amount of blood spilled, the lives lost, the terror caused. It was Thor— _Thor_ —who had finally explained everything, while they’d been on their way to Earth on _The Statesman_. Their sister and hers and Odin’s partnership. The true roots of Asgard’s power and rule over the other Realms.

As _The Statesman_ had slipped through space, Thor had grappled with who their father had actually been. Loki had bitten his tongue and kept from saying _I told you so_. Because the truth was that it was worse than what he’d thought. It turned out, he’d had illusions about their father too, despite the fact that he’d thought they’d all been wiped away.

Both of them were still struggling to understand their family. Hel, Loki was still struggling with whether or not they _were_ a family. On his good days, yes, of course they were. On his good days, he would do anything for his brother. His bad days too, if he was honest. On his worst days, though—well, he just wanted to tear it all apart, to burn it down, screaming with inarticulate rage and grief for things he could never put into words. On his bad days, it was hard to tell if he was having fewer bad days. On his worst days, it wasn’t even a question worth asking.

And as they drew closer to Nidavellir, it occurred to Loki that perhaps the other Realms didn’t _want_ the Bifrost reopened. That perhaps they were happy to be left to their own devices, happy to be out from under Asgard, and Odin’s, thumb.

It gave him pause, and he wondered if he should say something to Thor. But this entire enterprise had popped into Loki’s head because he couldn’t stand the fact that the two of them were whiling their lives away doing nothing useful. If the other Realms preferred to have nothing to do with Asgard, that could be worked out. Right now, Loki wasn’t willing to make that assumption, because he knew Thor would never make that assumption.

He certainly wasn’t going to say anything now, not when the weight of what had happened on the Guardians’ ship—what was it called, _The Benatar_?—was still hanging in the air between them. Open communication, never their family’s forte. Sometimes Loki thought he should get his own words tattooed across his forehead.

Instead, he occupied himself with chores and reading. He finally hid the fragment of Yggdrasil in his pocket dimension, which was where it should have been this whole time. The bridge console wasn’t exactly the ideal storage place for a piece of the World Tree. The only surviving piece of the World Tree, in fact. That thought was…massive. Too massive to touch for long. The two of them were in possession of something much bigger than themselves, and Loki didn’t like that kind of responsibility. He _did_ want to do this, but at the same time, he had to wonder…was this really who he was? Did the God of Mischief engage in grand quests like this?

In any case, you didn’t leave your valuables in plain sight on your spaceship. So into the pocket dimension it went. Honestly, he should probably clean the place out.

He settled back in to read, but at that moment, the comm chimed with an incoming message. Thor was there immediately, sliding into the other chair.

“I sincerely hope we’re just picking up air traffic control and food delivery requests,” Loki said.

Thor held up a hand, then turned up the comm. “— _repeat, we are requesting assistance; unidentified ship approaching which refuses to declare intent, weapons are armed. Our coordinates are—_ ”

“Thor,” Loki said helplessly. “If we keep doing this, we’ll _never_ get to Nidavellir.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Thor said, looking pointedly at the flight and nav controls.

With a sigh, Loki sat down and entered the coordinates from the distress call. He supposed they had an obligation to help when they were so close. “Do you think it’s the same people that attacked that old Asgardian ship?”

“Could be,” Thor said. He got up and walked towards the back of the ship. Loki knew he was looking at Stormbreaker.

“You know you can’t bring that,” Loki said. “That axe is a strictly surface battle weapon. You’re likely to put a hole in the side of the ship and forcibly evacuate us all into space if you use it.”

Looking unhappy about it, Thor said, “I know. Fine.” Instead, he retrieved a massive broadsword that he’d picked up on—where had it been? Oh yes, Krylor.

Loki looked at the proximity sensor and said, “We should be coming up on them in a minute.”

Weapons fire flashed in the distance several klicks away. Loki strapped his demi-gaunts back on. He flicked his wrists and his knives appeared in his hands. Studying the blades, Loki said, “We’re going to be hopelessly outnumbered.”

Thor grinned. It occurred to Loki that he’d probably been spoiling for a real fight ever since they’d been taken by the Preccat. “Never underestimate the element of surprise.”

_The Bifrost_ drew closer and Loki vanished his blades again. The two ships were both much larger than their own and had clearly recently been involved in a firefight. There were already boarding tethers running from the attackers’ ship to the hapless merchants or refugees or whatever they were. It didn’t really matter, all that mattered was that they were in trouble. Which Loki had to roll his eyes at—imagine, him, caring about strangers in trouble.

“Ravagers, do you think?” Thor asked.

“Possibly,” Loki replied. “Have you considered the fact that if they are, this well may put us on their bad side?”

Thor shrugged. “If they’re going to attack defenseless ships, they’re already on _my_ bad side.”

“Very quippy,” Loki muttered.

The two of them readied their EVA suits and the boarding lines. As they pulled alongside the other ship, Loki fired the impulse thrusters for a split second to keep them from slamming into it and alerting the enemy to their presence. He put the ship in a holding sequence and followed Thor back to the airlock. The inner door closed behind Loki as Thor shot the boarding lines at the other ship’s airlock, sending a bolt of energy down them to disable the locking mechanism on the door in order to make it open.

Thor looked at Loki, who nodded. They both activated their EVA suits and clipped onto the boarding lines. Once they were secure, Thor opened the outer door. The two of them rappelled along the lines to the other ship’s airlock, landing inside. ‘Landing’ being an imprecise term, of course, considering the lack of gravity, at least until the airlock closed. When the outer door shut, their feet thumped to the airlock deck, and they turned off their EVA suits. Loki pulled out his knives, and Thor the broadsword. At Thor’s nod, Loki opened the inner airlock door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back, Loki! As always, thank you so much to everyone reading this, everyone taking the time to leave a comment, and those who have left kudos. I'm grateful for every one of you! If you feel so inclined, you all know I love hearing from you! 💚
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on...THE REAL ASGARDIANS OF THE GALAXY! (because it's been awhile since I updated and I'm sure everyone could use the reminder)
> 
> Loki and Thor successfully retrieved a fragment of Yggdrasil from Asgard's remains, though Loki almost dies doing so, and sustains an injury to his hip. Luckily, the boys have a Hulk-grade painkiller made by Stark Industries in their first aid kit. Soon after, they receive a distress call. When they arrive on the scene, they find two ships, and one of them belongs to...the Guardians of the Galaxy?
> 
> After a minor misunderstanding, Thor and Loki determine that the Guardians got there shortly before the two of them did, answering the same distress call. The ship that was in trouble was of Vanir make, though the crew were not Vanir. They tell Thor that their attackers boarded and shot some of them with a weapon that appeared to do nothing. It left the crew unharmed. “We thought they were going to kill us,” the captain tells Thor. “One of them said they should send a message. They said, ‘let them come to us.’”
> 
> While on the Guardians' ship, Loki has a difficult conversation with Rocket about his attitude. Rocket reminds Loki that Thor learned to live without him once, and if Loki doesn't value Thor, then maybe Thor is better off without him. Loki doesn't take this well.
> 
> After Loki and Thor return to _The Bifrost_ and Loki cools down, the two of them decide that they'll go to Nidavellir, where they'll use the forge mechanism to focus the energy of the neutron star and reopen the Bifrost with the piece of Yggdrasil they retrieved.
> 
> Before they get far, though, they pick up another distress call. They arrive to find a ship attacking another vessel. Loki wonders if they're Ravagers—but neither of them will have to wonder long, because they board the ship themselves, intent on saving those who sent the distress call.

There was a man standing just inside the airlock, who started in surprise as the door lensed open. Loki made a motion with his hands, silencing his shout of alarm with a spell. Not that Loki had been inclined to question anyone, since the ship was under attack, but that clinched it.

When the man tried to run, Loki conjured a knife and flung it. It spun end over end, the blade catching the light, and buried itself in the man’s back, dropping him before he’d gotten more than three steps. Normally Loki was faster. The man shouldn’t have been able to take two.

Loki retrieved his knife, his hip twinging as he bent over. As he wiped blood on the man’s clothes, he turned the body over. The Ravager insignia was sewn on the man’s jacket, but Loki didn’t recognize the clan insignia below it. “Second thoughts about getting on their bad sides?” Loki asked as Thor joined him next to the body.

“Nope,” Thor said. He flexed his fingers into fists, his joints cracking.

With a sigh, Loki said, “Didn’t think so,” and followed his brother into the ship.

It was a mid-size ship—by Loki’s estimation, a good fifty meters long, four or five decks, cargo bays, a dedicated mess. Finding where the fight had moved to may have been a problem on a ship of that size, but as it happened, they were able to follow the trail of bodies.

There were a few Ravagers, but by far most of the dead were the Luphomoid crew. Loki’s gaze hardened. Blood trickled from stab wounds and slashes, and a few of the Ravagers had swords still clutched in their fingers. Loki stopped and picked one up, prying it from a Ravager’s hand, but he didn’t like the feel of it. His own blades were much better weighted, suited perfectly to his grip and his throw.

“This is bloody work, even for Ravagers,” Thor said angrily.

“Well,” Loki said, flipping a dagger as they walked, “they _are_ pirates. What did you expect? A tea party?”

“Something better than mindless butchery,” Thor growled.

If Thor thought Loki was being flip, he didn’t comment. Loki _was_ being flip. The bodies in the hallway bothered him, but he didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t _want_ to say it. He couldn’t afford the distraction or the emotion. This was far too reminiscent of the scene on _The Statesman_ when the Black Order had come upon them.

They rounded a corner and suddenly, the sounds of battle reached Loki’s ears. At least _someone_ was still alive to fight on this ship. Neither of them had to look at the other—they moved as a unit towards the noise. The bodies were thicker here, as though the crew had chosen this spot for their last stand. They were losing, if the ratio of Luphomoid to Ravager was anything to go by.

The two of them stepped through a door and found themselves in some kind of control room. Not the bridge; it looked more like it was to control the cargo bay operations. There were four Luphomoid crew still alive, badly outnumbered by the twenty Ravagers in the room.

“Excuse me!” Thor yelled. Most of the Ravagers stopped and turned around, except for one, who stabbed the Luphomoid he’d cornered through the stomach. Three Luphomoids, then. They froze, too, no doubt wondering what this new threat was. Swinging the sword up and onto his shoulder, Thor said, “I’m ready to accept your surrender. If you value your lives, of course.”

“Where is this newfound love for one-liners coming from?” Loki asked, shifting his knives in his hands. “‘They’re already on your bad side;’ ‘I’m ready to accept your surrender?’”

“It disarms the enemy,” Thor informed him.

“Does it?”

“Absolutely.” Raising his voice again, he asked the Ravagers, “So, do you give up?”

One of the Ravagers laughed and Loki observed, “They don’t appear particularly disarmed.”

“Ah, well, it doesn’t always work. That’s what the sword’s for.”

From the side of the room, one of the Ravagers ran at them, sword raised. Thor’s witty repartee wasn’t appreciated, apparently—though Loki sort of sympathized with the Ravagers on that.

Loki crouched, crossed his blades, and shot a ball of energy. The Ravager fell to the deck instantly, writhing with death throes, but this seemed to be a sign to the others to attack. They raised their swords and moved forward.

Thor lifted his sword and swung it at the nearest Ravager, who dodged under it, swiping at Thor with his weapon. Thor halted mid-swing and brought his fists down, cracking the Ravager on the head and dropping him to the floor. Two more rushed him and Thor swung the sword again, taking off one of their heads. Loki dispatched the other with a knife aimed right at the base of his skull. A distant, disconnected part of his mind always noted the ease with which he killed people, how easily it came to _both_ of them, and he wondered if perhaps he should give that some deeper thought when he wasn’t fighting for his life.

But at the moment, he _was_ fighting for his life. He whirled, ducking as a blade passed over his head, and jammed his remaining blade through the ribs of the Ravager behind him. He used that one as a shield, flinging the body towards a pair of Ravagers coming at Thor. When they fell, Thor stabbed one and Loki the other. Thor nodded to him and said, “Thanks.”

“Nothing personal,” Loki said. “I just need someone to shoot while I fly, since we’re inevitably going to have to get out of here quickly.”

Thor laughed and swung his sword again, cutting down a Ravager on Loki’s other side.

Loki took the opportunity to yank his dagger out of the skull of a dead Ravager. A sword whistled by his face and he leaned back, lithe and graceful despite months on _The Bifrost_. Well, maybe the five weeks of basic training on Preccat had helped there. He spun, slashing a throat open and ducking another sword. Then he turned to find a Ravager, blade in hand, bringing the weapon down in a hard chopping motion over his skull.

Loki threw a hand up, catching the Ravager by the forearm. It stopped the blade inches from the top of his head. Good—the _last_ thing he needed was for more of his hair to be shorn off. The Ravager leered and spat something that Loki’s Allspeak couldn’t translate, then swung a fist and caught Loki in the jaw.

It shocked more than hurt him. He backpedaled several steps, falling against the wall. One of the Luphomoids stepped in front of him before he could yell at her to stop, because he had this situation under control. She was cut down as three Ravagers converged on her.

On second thought, perhaps there wasn’t much point in thinking more deeply about how easily killing came to him. He wasn’t sure he gave much of a fuck about killing people like this.

Loki sighed and pressed his lips together. “That _really_ wasn’t fair of you,” he said, shaking his head at the Ravagers.

The lead Ravager grinned, his teeth a combination of blackened and missing. “Pray to your gods,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Loki gathered his magic into a tight ball, then flung it outwards, knocking the three Ravagers off their feet. Before they were able to scramble up, Loki pushed himself away from the wall and cut two of their throats. The third he kicked back down until he could stab him through the heart. “No praying necessary,” Loki said. “I _am_ a god.”

The other two Luphomoids were dead. Loki cursed. Hopefully _someone_ was alive somewhere on this ship, but they’d seen no indication of it. Oh well, one fewer Ravager clan wasn’t a bad day’s work, if that was all they accomplished here.

There were three Ravagers left, all surrounding Thor. Not much of a challenge for the God of Thunder, even if he wasn’t actually the God of Thunder anymore. But Loki supposed it would be nice of him to help. He let a dagger fly. It hit one Ravager between the shoulder blades just as Thor smashed the face of one of the others with his fist. Ouch. Bone splinters straight to the brain. Delicate mortal faces couldn’t stand up to Thor when the rage of battle had him.

The final Ravager scrambled backwards, looking over his shoulder for an escape. Thor advanced on him, broadsword raised, teeth bared. Then, the Ravager stopped, held very still, and raised his own sword with a yell. He rushed Thor, who dodged to the side, missing the Ravager’s swing at his neck. The sword caught him in the arm though, stabbing deep into his bicep.

Thor turned, raising his sword—and then collapsed.

From a minor wound to the arm? Loki’s rhythm stuttered for a millisecond. _That_ wasn’t right.

The benefit to being raised in a warrior culture, though, to training and fighting with Thor, was that when confronted with the unexpected in battle, Loki didn’t freeze. He saw his brother go down and didn’t stop to think. Instead, he cast an illusion of himself, which moved between the Ravager and the door. The Ravager froze, raising his sword, but Loki had already come up behind him silently, grabbing him around the throat in a chokehold. 

No clever one-liner needed. Loki snapped his neck, then pushed his body away. His illusory self wavered and vanished in a shimmer of green.

Quickly, Loki knelt next to Thor and put his hand on his shoulder, shaking him. “Brother,” he said, glancing at the wound on his arm, oozing blood. It wasn’t much, not by Asgardian standards. But Thor was unconscious and there was an unhealthy tinge to his skin. Loki put two fingers to Thor’s wrist. His pulse was thready, too. Not good. Loki reached out to pick up the sword that Thor had been stabbed with and studied it, then gingerly sniffed it. There was a faint smell, bitter, sort of acrid, like oxidizing metal, almost as though the blade was coated in something. Which it would have to be, to fell an Asgardian.

Poison.

One of the Ravagers groaned. So they _weren’t_ all dead. Loki stood up, advancing on him. He hadn’t meant to leave any of them alive, but it was fortuitous that one had survived. “What’s on this blade?” he demanded. When the Ravager just gave a gurgly chuckle, Loki knelt, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and held the sword to his throat. “Tell me, or you’ll find out what it feels like to die by it.”

The Ravager didn’t speak, so Loki pressed the edge of the sword to his throat, not _quite_ hard enough to break the skin. Yet.

“Alright, alright! Stop!” the Ravager said, his tone high and panicked. Loki let up the pressure a little, and the Ravager swallowed several frantic times. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could see Thor’s color worsening. “Rixa,” the Ravager said. “We dip our blades in Rixa.”

“ _Rixa?_ ” Loki repeated, appalled. He tossed the blade aside, out of the Ravager’s reach—and out of accidental nicking range. Then he stared at the Ravager, who was watching him expectantly. Well, Loki could give him something, if perhaps not what he was looking for.

One of his daggers appeared in his hand. In one swift motion, he rammed it under the Ravager’s ribs.

The shocked look on the man’s face wasn’t going to be much comfort if Thor died from his wound, but there was something gratifying about it all the same. Phlegm and blood splattered as the Ravager wheezed. “You said…” he began. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth, dribbling out.

“I said if you told me, you wouldn’t die by whatever it was. I never said I wouldn’t kill you.” Loki pulled the dagger out, then plunged it in again, twisting it to make sure he was really shredding the internal organs in the blade’s path.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t give a fuck. He actively _wanted_ people like this dead.

The Ravager flopped to the deck, blood spreading across his front. Loki shoved him away.

Rixa. Shit. _Fuck_. What was he going to do? His mind shot out in five hundred different directions and he needed to _focus_ , because if he didn’t, Thor was going to die. His brother’s hands were turning blue. Thor’s life was currently being measured in minutes, the Norns pulling his life’s thread taut in preparation to cut it. Shit. _Shit_. What was he going to do? Rixa, Rixa, how did you treat _Rixa?_

Rixa was bad. No poison was good, obviously, but Rixa was really, _really_ bad. The toxin bonded to molecules in the blood, choking oxygen out of them, starving it out of every cell in the body, until the victim suffocated from the bloodstream out.

It wasn’t a nice way to die.

The solution came to him—he knew what he needed to do to save Thor. But then, there was a creak and Loki jumped to his feet, spinning and facing in the direction of the sound, knives out. He saw nothing.

Wait—there. A pair of eyes staring out at him from beneath a control console.

The access panel beneath it was ajar and a figure was crouched there. He lowered his daggers, vanishing them back into his sleeves. “You can come out,” he said. “They’re all dead. They won’t hurt you.” He paused. His heart was pounding. “And I need your help.”

There was an excruciatingly long moment. Behind him, Thor’s breath was coming faster. He’d hyperventilate soon and then it would be over. But Loki stayed silent, holding his own breath. If he spooked the one remaining survivor on this ship, there would be no one to help him find what he needed to save his brother.

Then, slowly, the figure crawled out of the duct, getting to her feet. Loki almost groaned. It was a girl. A child.

She was all he had, though. “Listen,” he said urgently. “I need your help. Is there an oxygen tank on this ship?”

She didn’t move. Loki’s fingers were clenched so tightly that his fingernails were digging into his palms. He could hear Thor breathing faster and Loki realized he was holding his breath again as he stared at the girl.

Finally, after twenty seconds that felt like twenty minutes, she nodded. Loki let his breath out in a whoosh and said, “I need a mask too. Anything I could use as a mask. I have to saturate his blood with oxygen, he’ll die otherwise—”

Why was he telling her this? He glanced over his shoulder at Thor. There was a bluish pallor to his face now.

“Please,” Loki said, hearing the note of desperation in his voice. For once, he didn’t care. “Get it. Tell me where to find it. It doesn’t matter. But I need it _now_.”

The girl’s eyes flickered to Thor, then back to Loki, and without saying a word, she bolted from the room. Loki swallowed. Was she helping or running away? How long should he stand there and wait? If Thor wasn’t Asgardian, if he wasn’t the former God of Thunder, he’d be dead already. Rixa killed fast. It explained why almost everyone on the ship had been dead before the two of them had even gotten there.

He looked at Thor again, chewing the inside of his cheek ragged. He tasted blood. His brother was starting to gasp for air. In another couple minutes, he’d be dead. And if Thor died, then Loki would be alone.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He was tired of being alone, tired down to his bones of it, and as long as he had Thor he _wasn’t_ , but in ninety seconds the universe would take the most important thing in his life from him. He was constantly convinced of the fact that it was going to be taken from him anyway, but not like _this;_ it was Thor’s job to come to his senses and leave, it wasn’t the universe’s place to make that decision for him. It was untenable. Intolerable. It _could not happen_. But it was happening. It was _happening_.

Loki’s chest tightened but he forced himself not to panic. He couldn’t count on the girl to come back. Somehow, he’d have to find what he needed in this ship in the next minute and a half.

But just as he took a step out the door, the girl reappeared around a corner, carrying an oxygen tank and a case, coming back at a dead run. When she saw him, she skidded to a halt and held out the tank. As he grabbed it from her, she ripped the case open and pulled out a plastic mask with a tube dangling off it. Loki snatched that from her too and crossed the room to Thor’s side, kneeling on the floor next to him. Quickly, his fingers sure and steady, he attached the tube to the oxygen tank. It was loose, but the girl was ready with tape from the case. It was a medical kit. If Thor survived this, he might need something else in there.

Blood dripped down Loki’s face from the cut above his eyebrow where he’d been punched. He’d need the medical kit for _himself_. But not now. There was no time now. What was a little blood?

He opened the valve on the tank and it hissed as oxygen escaped. Then, trying not to think about the fact that Thor was gasping, he put the mask down over his brother’s mouth and nose and held it there, staring into Thor’s face without blinking. Loki’s heart was hammering, thudding so hard that it felt like it was going to splinter his sternum.

“Don’t die, you idiot,” Loki said in a low tone. “I’ll _never_ forgive you if you die.”

The girl was still standing there, staring with her hands clenched into fists in front of her chest, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the case. Loki barely registered her presence.

Thor’s gasping didn’t slow. All of his exposed skin was blue.

This wasn’t working.

_It wasn’t working._

Loki couldn’t accept that.

He kept holding the mask down, thinking, wishing, praying, anything that would sway an uncaring universe to spare his brother’s life. Mjølnir could have revived him, maybe Stormbreaker, though the axe had never had Mjølnir’s power. But the hammer wasn’t here, because Thor wasn’t worthy anymore, which was idiotic, when had Thor ever _not_ been worthy? He always would be, even if a stupid piece of hardware didn’t think so, a stupid piece of Uru hardware which, by the way, their bloodthirsty older sister had wielded, so clearly it wasn’t _all_ great to be able to hold it up, and what did it matter, anyway? Why did being able to lift up a hammer make a person worthy? It was stupid, it was asinine, it was—

Thor wasn’t breathing through his mouth anymore. Loki’s heart nearly stopped, but then he realized that it was because—because—

Thor was breathing through his nose. The gasping had stopped. His breath was coming slower and steadier. His face was regaining its normal color and his fingers slowly were too.

Loki let out his breath in an explosive gasp, laughing softly and feeling something dripping down his face, whether tears or blood, he didn’t know. He put a hand on Thor’s chest, resting it there and feeling the steady rise and fall of his brother’s breathing. Then he bowed his head, putting his forehead on Thor’s chest, too, and closing his eyes. He listened to Thor breathe, keeping the mask held in place with his other hand. By the time the oxygen tank ran out, the Rixa would have worked its way out of Thor’s system and he’d be able to breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” Loki said without raising his head. He felt like he could close his eyes and sleep for days. It felt like it had _been_ days since Thor had been wounded. Poisoned. The wound was nothing. It felt like days but it had been—what, five minutes? Hard to believe they’d been fighting side by side five minutes ago.

At any other time in his life, the naked emotion he was displaying right now would have mortified him. He’d lost control and he didn’t care. Once, he’d shouted his father into the Odinsleep, anger, grief, and rage pouring out of him. Once, he’d snarled at his mother that Odin wasn’t his father, and she wasn’t his mother. Once, he’d tried to kill Thor himself. Maybe more than once. A mere _day_ ago he’d been convinced Thor was moments away from abandoning him to join the Guardians again.

Now, he felt tears on his cheeks and he had to give himself credit—no rage. No grief. No pain. That made this breakdown unique. There was just stupid, unshakeable love for his brother. Oh, it was complicated. But in their family, what wasn’t?

There was a noise. Loki lifted his head. The girl had knelt on Thor’s other side, and she pointed at Loki. He stared at her, his brow furrowed. Then, realizing what she was pointing at, he touched his fingers to his eyebrow. They came away red and sticky with blood. Right. He was hurt. He gave a shaky, watery laugh, swiping the back of his hand across his nose, and then the heel of his hand over his cheeks. She held out an antiseptic wipe and a bandage, which he took wordlessly and used as best he could with no mirror.

Then, he looked around the room, for the first time truly registering the carnage. The Luphomoid crew were all sprawled where they’d been cut down. Of course he hadn’t recognized the signs of Rixa on them. They were already blue. At least the Ravagers were all dead, too, though Loki could see, now that he was thinking about it, how this whole scene might be rather traumatizing to a lone surviving child.

His hip was killing him, he realized. He’d aggravated the injury he’d sustained retrieving the fragment of Yggdrasil. Adrenaline had kept him from noticing until now.

“I have to get him back to my ship,” Loki said, glancing down at Thor. The oxygen was about half gone, according to the dial on the tank. He opened his mouth, then closed it, considering. With another glance around the room, he met her eyes. “You’re welcome to come back with me.”

Alarm flashed through her eyes and she took a step back. Loki smiled humorlessly. “I won’t make you do anything. You don’t have to stay here, though. We can bring you home, wherever that is.” Assuming this ship wasn’t home. “Do you have family somewhere?”

The girl stared at him, though she looked wary now, rather than afraid. She refused to speak. Loki sighed. “Well, you have a few minutes to decide.” Tapping the dial on the oxygen tank, he said, “I’m going when this runs out.”

Nothing but staring, still. Loki lapsed into silence too, flicking his gaze between the dial and Thor. The blue had left his skin entirely. It really hadn’t suited him. Loki would have to tell him that—leave the blue skin to Jotun bastards. He sniffled again and wiped his nose with the back of his thumb.

When the dial finally ticked down to zero, Loki removed the mask and held his breath. The Rixa _should_ have worked its way out of Thor’s system, but Loki wasn’t exactly an expert. But Thor’s breathing remained deep and steady. Loki licked his lips, then pressed them together and nodded.

Looking at the girl, he asked, “So. Are you coming?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the LONG break in updating. Hopefully I'll get back on a more regular schedule now. Thank you to anyone who bore with me during the hiatus and is back reading now, and to everyone else reading, too! My favorite thing is hearing what people think, so please drop me a comment if you'd like!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on chapter 21! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to respond yet, but I will asap!

There were few things in the universe more cumbersome than a completely unconscious Thor. Loki was strong, but his brother was heavy. And it couldn’t be ignored that Thor had never lost all his extra weight. When Loki finally got him into his berth on _The Bifrost_ , he fell back against the wall, breathing heavily. Of course, it was actually Loki’s berth, not Thor’s. At least he’d finally get the top bunk, for once. There was no way Loki would ever be able to lift Thor up there, even if it was advisable for a man who’d just been poisoned to be in the top bunk, which it wasn’t.

He was letting his thoughts ramble. He still felt frazzled. Emotional. He didn’t like it.

Getting Thor into his berth had actually required several extra steps that Loki hadn’t appreciated. When he’d opened the airlock, he found a Ravager sitting in the bridge, obviously waiting for word to bring the ship into the bay of the Ravager vessel still waiting for its crew to return.

“Excuse me,” Loki had said. He’d held out a hand to keep the Luphomoid girl behind him. When the Ravager stood, he threw a knife at him. The Ravager fell to the deck, dead. “That’s my seat,” Loki finished.

He had no choice but to leave Thor on the floor while he threw the ship into impulse, driving the engines harder than they could handle for longer than was advisable to the nearest jump point. Even farther from Nidavellir. But he couldn’t win a firefight with Ravagers.

Once he was sure they weren’t going to be followed, he’d gotten Thor into bed, then ejected the Ravager’s body from the airlock. And now Loki was just standing there, looking around the ship blankly.

He ran a hand through his hair. He could feel the difference that a couple weeks had made in its length. The last time it had been cut was just after the Battle Osccri on Preccat. It seemed so long ago, even though it had only been two weeks. Had he really sat around a fire with Kalmsh, thinking about how he could do nothing to help him, so recently?

Then again, no one knew better than him how odd time could be. Pushing all of that from his mind and turning around, he asked the girl, “Are you hungry?”

Damn, he wouldn’t be getting the top bunk, after all. He couldn’t very well take the only other unoccupied bed on the ship, not now that he’d rescued a stray. At least she’d come with her own EVA suit.

The girl was looking around the ship, taking everything in. Probably thinking it looked pretty pathetic, compared to what she’d just come from. Well, she wasn’t wrong. But _The Bifrost_ , it needed to be acknowledged, had the advantage of _not_ being covered in bodies. So there was that.

No answer to the food question, though. He narrowed his eyes and thought, then finally said, “Do you have a name? I’m Loki, by the way. My two ton brother whose life you just saved is Thor.” No response. “We’re Asgardian.” Did she care? Did anyone? “You’re Luphomoid, yes? Are you from Luphom?” At this, she just stared. “It’s just the two of us on this ship,” Loki went on. “Obviously. It will be a bit cramped with three, but we’ll make it work.”

The sound of his own voice was beginning to irritate _him_ , he couldn’t imagine how she felt, listening to him prattling. It was the adrenaline still coursing through his bloodstream. Not from the battle, but from its aftermath. Battles didn’t make him feel this way unless they contained some sort of emotional trauma. Finding out you were a Frost Giant, facing the sister you’d never known you had and having her try to kill you, nearly losing your brother, that sort of thing.

“You don’t have to tell me your name,” he said. Unnecessarily, he thought; she didn’t seem likely to tell him her name. She didn’t seem likely to tell him anything at all. With a hard exhale, he said, “I’m going to take a nap. You can use the top berth. The kitchen and bathroom are in the back next to the airlock. Help yourself to anything if you get hungry.”

With that, he made his way to the galley, laying down on the bench on one side of the table. He curled on his side, closed his eyes, and was asleep within moments.

He didn’t think he’d slept long when he woke up, though. An hour, maybe two. Something had woken him. The ship was quiet, the girl nowhere in sight, and he sat up before sliding off the bench to investigate. He walked quietly to the ship’s controls to make sure everything was still working the way it was supposed to, that they were still on the heading he’d set them on (towards nothing in particular), and that nothing was coming after them. All clear, on all fronts. Stars shone coldly in the blackness. They were the only company Loki had, currently.

There was a noise, perhaps the noise that had woken him, and he got up, walking over to look at the berths. There was a lump on the top one. The girl, covered in a blanket. But on the bottom berth, Thor was stirring.

Loki folded his arms over his chest, then crossed to the berths and said, “Glad you’ve decided to join us in the land of the living, brother.”

“Loki?” Thor asked, his voice coming out as a croak. “What—” He had to stop to draw in several breaths. “What happened?”

Kneeling down, Loki said, “Oh, nothing, I just saved your life. At great personal risk, it goes without saying.” Thor stared at him, his one eye reflecting so much flat disbelief that Loki almost took offense, even though he was obviously lying. “You were wounded,” he said. “And you need to rest, so _don’t_ get up. Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep.”

Thor tried to lift his head, but it took too much effort, and he dropped it back down to the pillow. “You’re not telling me everything.”

“Obviously,” Loki said. He put a hand on Thor’s forehead. “Sleep, brother.”

“Don’t—”

But Loki had no intention of listening to him. He cast the spell to make Thor sleep. That would knock him out for at least ten hours. Thor’s eyes rolled back into his head and his eyelids dropped. Loki leaned back, his weight on his knees and the balls of his feet, and watched his brother, letting his mind wander.

It wandered to their plan, or rather, their lack thereof. With the fragment of Yggdrasil recovered, it wasn’t good enough to say, ‘we’ll go to Nidavellir and figure it out.’ They needed to actually—well—figure it out, preferably before arriving. His brain felt empty, but it didn’t stop him from thinking. Nothing had _ever_ stopped him from thinking. A _plan_. Nothing to it.

Right, it was that easy. Step one, think of a plan. Step two, carry it out. He picked at his lower lip with his thumb. Nidavellir wasn’t a _bad_ plan, truly. It made sense that opening the Bifrost would take an enormous amount of energy—as well as something very particular.

If the Bifrost had been created with the magic of the Allfather, then only Thor could reopen it.

A chill went through Loki. Losing Thor wouldn’t have just been bad for him. It would have been terrible for the Nine Realms. Thor was the only one left who carried that magic in his blood. Jane, as worthy and Mighty Thor-y as she might be, hadn’t, to his knowledge, inherited that particular trait when she’d picked up Mjølnir. And Brunnhilde, as capable as she was, was only King of Asgard because Thor had walked away from it. She’d never _truly_ be king, not the way Asgard was meant to have kings.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, seeing Thor’s rapidly dying body on the backs of his eyelids. The image wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. Perhaps it would join its brethren, Thor being pounded to a pulp by the Hulk on Sakaar and Thor being tortured by Thanos on _The Statesman_.

He opened his eyes again. No one was watching. No one would ever know. Hesitantly, he put a hand to Thor’s face. His brother’s cheek felt warm against Loki’s cool fingers.

For a minute or two, he remained there, kneeling at his brother’s side, this one point of contact between them. It was…tender, and Loki didn’t _do_ tender. Not anymore. But today he’d almost lost Thor.

Maybe it was more than a minute or two. Maybe his eyes started to drift shut before he caught himself. Thor looked peaceful, so Loki returned to the bench in the kitchen and sat down, fully intending to do something useful, even if it was thinking about the Bifrost. But his eyes grew heavy, and he closed them. Just for a moment, just to rest them.

* * *

Loki fell asleep sitting up without realizing he’d done it, only waking when there was a crash. As he started awake, his eyes shooting open, the first thing he saw was the Luphomoid girl sitting across the table from him, eating Cup Noodles. Her eyes flicked to a point behind his head, and Loki turned to see that Thor had rolled out of his berth and was thrashing on the floor, tangled in a blanket.

Yawning and rubbing at his eyes, Loki got up and went to deal with whatever was happening.

“Curse you, brother,” Thor was growling, as he tried to disentangle himself from the blanket that was wrapped around his arms and head. “I’ve told you a thousand times _not_ to magick me without asking first; I _don’t_ need you sending me to sleep…” His growl trailed off and turned to muttering, which was laced enough with profanity that Loki figured it was probably better that he was only catching about thirty percent of it.

After a minute of this, Loki pulled at the blanket, revealing Thor’s face. “If you’re done abusing me,” Loki said, “I’ll help you back into bed.”

“I don’t need your help,” Thor grumbled.

“Oh?” Loki dropped the blanket back on Thor’s face. “Fine, get back in bed yourself.”

“I don’t need to _be_ in bed!”

Loki rolled his eyes.

There was another few minutes of struggling, and then, finally, sounding out of breath, Thor said, very, _very_ grudgingly, “Perhaps I could lie down for a few more minutes.”

After Loki had disentangled Thor from the blanket, he heaved him back onto the berth. It was, if anything, _more_ difficult than it had been when he was unconscious, as Thor kept trying to help and just made things harder.

“Just hold still!” Loki snapped. The truth was that it was unsettling, seeing his brother this helpless.

Finally, when he’d managed to get Thor back in the berth, he leaned against the bulkhead, breathing heavily, and said, “You should eat.”

“You just told me I need to stay in bed,” Thor said, still sounding extremely disgruntled about it. “And you still haven’t explained what happened.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Loki said, “You were poisoned.” His hand came away smeared with blood. The bandage over the cut on his eyebrow must have come off while he’d been dealing with Thor. But these words had, at least, shut Thor up. “Rixa,” Loki added, hoping that this added information would buy him a few more minutes of silence.

“What?” Thor finally said, sounding much more subdued.

Loki looked at him, then said, “Don’t try to move again.” He walked to the galley, glancing at the girl as he went. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, but she didn’t seem particularly concerned with the grumpy Asgardian in the bottom berth. The Cup Noodles was an inspired choice, actually. Soup was comforting, right? It was what you gave to ill people. It was what you gave anyone who needed something soothing. Mother had sent it to him in the dungeons at least once a week while he’d been locked up there.

He went to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, remembered only when his fingers hit the side of his face that he still didn’t have enough hair to tuck back, and considered the fact that it might be a nervous habit and something to distract his mind.

The only flavor they had left was Lime and Shrimp, which didn’t sound as comforting as, say, chicken, but he poured hot water into it anyway, then brought it over to Thor. “Can you sit up?” Loki asked. Thor struggled and failed, and with a sigh, Loki sat on the berth next to him.

“Are you going to feed me?” Thor asked.

“I’m going to dump this over your head if you suggest that again,” Loki replied, returning Thor’s stupid grin with cold smile of his own.

With a grimace, Thor held out his hands, both of which were shaking badly. Loki almost handed him both the Cup Noodle and the spoon, but at the last moment, he hesitated and gave him only the spoon. To be honest, Thor didn’t really look capable of holding both, and Loki was close enough that the hot water in the cup would spill on him if Thor dropped it. Considering he hadn’t _entirely_ ruled out the possibility of biological children one day, that was something he generally wanted to avoid.

Thor could barely hold the spoon. When his fingers struggled to grasp it, he growled inarticulately at it, then dropped it on the blanket over his legs as his hand refused to do what he was telling it to.

“Is this what you felt like when Father stripped you of your powers?” Loki asked.

“Shut up.”

“That was a sincere question, actually.” Loki sighed and picked up the spoon, bouncing it in his fingers. Then, scowling, he said, “Let’s get this over with. Come on.” Thor looked at him and Loki returned it with a flat expression, then dunked the spoon into the noodles and held it out. “Just eat.”

This was mortifying, but what was he supposed to do? Thor couldn’t hold a utensil, let alone feed himself, and he needed to eat.

“I didn’t know you cared, brother,” Thor said after four or five spoonfuls.

His scowling deepening, Loki said, “Don’t be an idiot.”

Ramen dribbled off the spoon and onto Thor’s beard. Oh for heaven’s sake, was he going to have to mop his brother clean after this? “What happened on the ship?” Thor asked around a mouthful of noodles.

Waiting until he’d swallowed to bring the next spoonful to his mouth, Loki said, “After you got stabbed and very inconsiderately almost died?” Thor nodded and swallowed his next spoonful of noodles. “I took care of it.”

Thor looked at him. “Did we save anyone?”

“No.” He held the spoon out and tried not to cringe as Thor slurped at the ramen. “Well, that’s not _exactly_ true. There was one person left alive. A girl.”

Looking vaguely horrified, Thor said, “A girl? Where is she now?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I left her on a disabled ship full of corpses, floating in space, and told her I’d send her the invoice for saving her.” Pausing and dunking the spoon in the styrofoam container, he added, “Honestly Thor, what do you think? She’s sitting over in the galley. Refusing to talk, I might add, though I suppose I can’t blame her, considering she just watched a massacre.” Thor tried to shift on the berth, but he didn’t manage to move more than a few inches. “She’s there, trust me,” Loki said, offering his brother another spoonful of ramen. Maybe he was getting desensitized to this, because it was getting less torturous the further down the cup he got. Though, having thought that, he hoped he didn’t have to do this again. _Ever_ again. “She helped me,” he added.

“So you don’t know where she’s from?” Thor asked.

Loki shook his head. “If she starts talking and tells us, then we can bring her home.” Thor looked down at his lap and when he raised his head again, he seemed to be fighting hard not to smile. Suspiciously, Loki asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” Thor said, shaking his head.

It obviously wasn’t nothing. Loki narrowed his eyes at his brother, then proffered the spoon again. The ramen was almost gone. It was quite clear that Thor was thinking something stupid about how Loki was doing such a decent thing, and wasn’t it sweet how much he _cared_.

“Anyway,” Loki said, “I don’t think we should bring her to Nidavellir. After what she’s been through, it just seems like it might be a bit…traumatic.” He wasn’t doing himself any favors on the doing-something-decent front. If he wasn’t careful, Thor was really going to think he was some kind of do-gooder. Of course, if he thought about it, wasn’t that exactly what he was trying to be? Sometimes he couldn’t keep it straight. Did he want to be what everyone expected him to be, or did he want to prove them all wrong? It varied, he supposed, from moment to moment. He wasn’t even sure anymore what others expected from him.

The spoon scraped the bottom of the cup and Loki found himself asking, as though another person had taken control of his mouth, “Was this enough to eat?”

Thor looked like he wanted to point out how out of character the offer was, if the poorly disguised glee on his face was any indication. Or, put another way, Thor looked like he wanted to get a cup of hot water poured over his head. The worst part was, if he _was_ still hungry, obviously Loki would feed him again. Pathetic.

An image of Thor lying helpless, suffocating, dying, flashed across his mind.

He could bear the humiliation of feeding Thor. His heart clenched. In the universe that Loki had destroyed, Thor had been dead. It was the thing that had driven the other Loki to do what he’d done—to sacrifice himself and to save Loki (he still hadn’t worked out how to talk about it in a way that wasn’t confusing). And though he’d never say it out loud—as much as he’d hated the other Loki for dumping his mess on someone else, namely _him_ —he understood him. He understood that he couldn’t do anything else. Life without Thor was unthinkable. If he wasn’t out there somewhere in the cosmos…Loki couldn’t even imagine it.

Had he been in the other Loki’s position, he would have done the same thing.

The point was, he’d feed another cup of ramen to Thor if he had to.

“Maybe later,” Thor said. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he added, “I’ve never been poisoned before. Kind of upsets the stomach.”

“Actually, that’s not true. You have been,” Loki said. Thor slitted an eye at him and Loki smiled. “Come on. You never suspected? That feast? It must have been five hundred years ago. You embarrassed me in front of Karnilla and Amora. The thing is, Thor, I never wanted you _dead_. I just wanted you to feel miserable for a few hours.”

Thor’s eyes drooped shut. “The worst,” he mumbled.

Loki’s smile got a little gentler, now that Thor couldn’t see him. “Yes, I expect so,” he said. Before Thor fell asleep, Loki got him resettled in the berth, lying on his back, and dried off the mess he’d made in his beard. It took Thor only minutes to drop off to sleep again, and Loki leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed over his chest, regarding his brother.

The poisoning had just been one time, truly, and Loki had slipped Thor the antidote later, when he’d been hunched over the toilet in his quarters and the sound of his retching had been keeping Loki awake through the walls. Or, perhaps, just possibly, because he felt a bit guilty.

Lightly, Loki reached out and touched Thor on the ankle. Then, he turned away and picked up a book before sliding onto the bench in the galley. “Are you ready to start talking yet?” he asked the girl.

She looked at him. When she’d come over to _The Bifrost_ , he’d barely looked at her, far too preoccupied with keeping them all alive to notice much of anything about her except she was blue. Her hair, he thought, had been pinned up in some sort of cap—he couldn’t remember. But he’d told her she could use the bathroom to shower or do whatever she needed to do, and now that she had, her dark blue hair was down, hanging in a long ponytail that was sitting on her shoulder. Her eyes, when she looked up long enough that he could see them, were brown. Her fingernails were ragged. She was somewhere between child and teenager.

She didn’t answer, of course. Loki shrugged, about to look down to his book. But then, she gave a minute shake of her head.

Loki stared at her. “You’re not ready to start talking,” he repeated.

Another head shake, this one a little more pronounced. She was combing her fingers through her hair.

With a quiet snort, he said, “Alright, then.” It wasn’t talking, but it was communication. Progress.

He rolled his eyes a little at himself. His big lump of a brother and a mute rescue from the detritus of a pirate attack—these, currently, were his people. He seemed to be developing a tendency lately to gather extremely motley groups of people around him. Leaning an elbow on the table, he said, “Was that ramen enough dinner?” When the girl shook her head again, he said, “Well, go on. Eat something else.”

After a second, she slid off the bench and went to dig around in the galley for some food. Loki allowed himself a small smile.

Progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a little light poisoning between family? As always, thank you all for sticking with this fic! We're at the halfway point now...
> 
> Hearing from all of you is my favorite thing, so if you'd like to, please leave a comment! :D 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some description of a past non-con situation. It's not graphic.

Loki had a crick in his neck when he woke. His legs were asleep from the knees down to his toes. When he sat up, it was to see Thor seated on the other side of the table, shelling some kind of nut they’d picked up on Kitson. His fingers were still clumsy—probably still aftereffects from his poisoning—but he was managing. As he pushed himself up, Loki asked, “Feeling better?”

“A bit.” Thor popped one of the nuts in his mouth. “Did I really hear you say you once poisoned me before I fell asleep last night?”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki said, “I think you’re imagining things. The mind plays tricks, you know, especially when one’s been through an ordeal.” Thor rolled his eyes.

Oh well, it had been worth a try. Reaching for one of the nuts, Loki asked, “I don’t suppose you convinced our friend to talk yet?”

“No, did you?”

“She shook her head a few times,” Loki said, realizing the note he was hearing in his own voice was pride. _That_ was idiotic. “Where is she, anyway?”

Thor pointed towards the bridge and Loki glanced over his shoulder. The girl was sitting in the pilot’s chair, her knees drawn up to her chest, watching the stars streak by. Disorientation, confusion, and sadness radiated off her. “You didn’t say anything to scare her, did you?” Thor asked. When Loki gave him a withering look, Thor shrugged and said, “Sometimes you can come across a bit…”

Pursing his lips, Loki asked, “A bit what?”

His eyebrows raised, Thor said, “A bit, I don’t know. Harsh.”

Loki furrowed his brow and looked towards the girl. Had he been harsh with her? He hadn’t meant to be. To be honest, he liked children. He’d always thought he did quite well with them. Not to mention—show him a lost and adrift child, and he’d…well, deny it till he was blue in the face that he saw himself in them, but ultimately, deep down, admit that he did.

That was _such_ a human turn of phrase, ‘till he was blue in the face.’ Delicious for its irony and the fact that one could apply it to him in such a literal way; he’d laughed the first time he’d heard it. Strange had looked at him in confusion. This universe’s Strange. The one he didn’t like. Or possibly he did. It was hard to say. The man was easier to like from a distance.

The fact was, there was a lost child buried in his heart, even if he frequently would rather not acknowledge it. The baby abandoned on Jotunheim, the boy who didn’t understand why nothing he did was ever good enough for his father. If he’d been harsh with the girl, he felt bad for it.

Thor reached across the table and grasped his shoulder. “Brother, I’m sure you didn’t frighten her.”

It was a reflex to jerk out of Thor’s grasp. For the first time, it occurred to Loki how sad it was that Thor just looked resigned when he did it. But he didn’t like it when people could tell what he was thinking, and obviously it had been clear that the thought of upsetting the girl had been showing on his face. “I just told her to make sure she eats enough,” Loki said.

Leaning back, Thor shelled another nut, chewing silently while he crushed the discarded shells into dust. He was thinking and it wasn’t clear _what_ he was thinking. The fact that Loki couldn’t always tell anymore bothered him. Was he getting worse at reading Thor, or was Thor getting better at masking his thoughts?

“What do we do with her if she doesn’t talk?” Thor asked quietly. “You’re right. We can’t bring her to Nidavellir.”

Staring at the table, Loki raised an eyebrow and said in a low tone, “Oh, I don’t know, what if we need to make a sacrifice to open the Bifrost?”

There was a silence, and when Loki looked up, Thor was staring at him, a look that was vaguely amused and indulgent on his face. There wasn’t anything vague about how much it irritated Loki, though. “Brother,” Thor said.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Just thought I’d play the part.”

Thor sighed and ate another nut. At least he didn’t say anything else. Small mercies. There was a long silence while Thor continued to eat. What _were_ they going to do with the girl? There was bound to be a space station or planet nearby, but they couldn’t just choose the first one they saw. Luphomoid developmental stages weren’t exactly Loki’s area of expertise, but there was no conceivable way she was old enough to be left on her own.

In fact, if Loki was remembering correctly, the closest planet was Planet Sin, and that, for so many reasons, wasn’t going to happen. The name was an accurate summation of the sorts of things that went on there. One time, on the way back from—had it been a diplomatic mission, or a battle? Things blurred together sometimes—Loki had convinced Thor that they should stop there and play the tables. Thor had wanted to drink and womanize, which had left Loki to play.

Well, it had left Loki to cheat, which he’d done, to an impressive extent. An impressive extent, that was, until someone caught on. It had only been a matter of time. He’d been young and it was one of the first times he’d been off Asgard, old enough to go into battle, but a stupid stripling otherwise. Far too convinced of his own intelligence and invincibility.

When he’d gotten caught, he’d run, confident—cocky—that his magic would save him. But it hadn’t. He’d been cornered at the end of an alley by the types of beefy, over-muscled security goons that made Thor look small. They had tried to rough him up; he had fought back. Even though he was young, stupid, and skinny, he’d had knives, magic, and strength that had surprised them.

They had still overpowered him, slapping some kind of magic-suppressing collar on him. They had been far angrier about the fight he’d put up than the fact that he’d been cheating the house. He had sliced open one of their faces from eyebrow to jaw, diagonally across his nose, and sneered, “I think it actually makes you look _better._ It’s certainly no worse,” which, even for him, had been stupid.

He’d kept sneering right up to the point one of them had said, “Pretty, ain’t he?” and the other had responded, “He won’t be when I’m done with him,” as he started unbuckling his pants.

The seriousness of the situation had hit Loki like a thunderbolt. Panic had clutched at him. “Wait,” he’d said, feeling the blood leave his face. “I’m a Prince of Asgard, you can’t—”

One of them backhanded him across the mouth, then grabbed him around the neck and shoved him face first against the wall. The collar had bitten into his throat, making him feel like he was suffocating and gagging. “Sure,” the man said. “And I’m the High Priestess of the Sovereign.”

A huge, keratined hand had groped at his clothes, looking for pants to yank down. Loki had struggled, bared his teeth and reached for his magic, but the collar was doing something to him and it felt like a kick to the inside of his skull. It made him reel and retch, and his tormenters laughed and finally got his pants down around his ankles.

Then, there’d been a roar, so full of rage and vengeance that Loki had almost wept. Something knocked both security guards aside. Loki had whirled around, pulling his clothes up, to see Thor standing there, his axe Jarnbjorn—this was pre-Mjølnir—raised high. Fury crackled off him like electricity. With another inarticulate howl of rage, he’d swung Jarnbjorn at the men, hitting one of them so hard that he fell, his thick armor gashed open and blood leaking from a wound across his chest. Thor’s face had been red with fury as he’d yelled, “WHAT—IS—THE—MEANING—OF—THIS?!”

They were bigger than Thor, too. But one of them was incapacitated—bleeding out maybe, but at the time Loki’s hopes hadn’t been high. The remaining goon had been _just_ smart enough to see that Thor was more than a match for him. “The little shit was robbing the casino!” he said.

Loki had finished fastening his pants and looked up to see Thor’s jaw clench hard enough to pop teeth out. His grip on Jarnbjorn shifted, growing more white-knuckled. “ _Then_ ,” Thor growled, “you should have brought him to your dungeons and allowed me to collect him, seeing as _we_ are Princes of Asgard and accustomed to being treated with at least the _barest_ amount of respect.”

The man rolled his eyes, but Thor raised his axe and said in a dangerous tone, “Give me the key to that thing you put on him. And then get out of my sight.”

Surprising Loki, the guard had shown a bit of backbone, stepping forward and sticking a finger in Thor’s face. “Imagine that,” Loki muttered. “Picking on someone closer to your own size.”

The man had whirled to face him, but Thor was much faster. Before he knew what was happening, Thor’s hand was squeezing his throat. The man’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “ _The key_ ,” he’d snarled. “And if I learn that you laid a hand on my brother, I _will_ find you _, and then I will kill you_.”

The magic words. When the collar came free, Loki had rubbed at his neck. The man grumbled, “He owes the casino twenty thousand units—”

“You _dare_ ,” Thor thundered, “to demand payment after what I just saw!” Jarnbjorn came up again and the man fled, pulling his injured coworker to his feet and dragging him away. A trail of blood marked their passage. Loki had watched them go, still massaging his neck, still feeling ill, though he told himself it was just the effects of trying to use magic with the collar on.

Thor had stood there, shoulders heaving in emotion. Then, he’d turned to face Loki, his expression still murderous. “I didn’t—” Loki had begun. Thor had just growled, and Loki had attempted again, “It wasn’t _actually_ twenty thousand units—”

Quietly, in a tone that Loki had recognized as possibly _more_ dangerous, Thor had said, “Did you cheat?”

“What if I did?” Loki demanded. _Did I deserve_ that _?_ was what he’d meant. They’d been at a point in their lives, and in their relationship, where Loki had begun to seriously wonder that. When bad things happened to him, when their father raged at him for something that—alright, fine, for mischief that he’d usually caused, when it was clear that he was the less liked, the _dis_ liked, perhaps even loathed, second prince, when he took hits in fights: the thought had begun creeping in, did Thor enjoy seeing him get his comeuppance?

Thor had stared at him for another excruciatingly long moment. Then, he’d plunked Jarnbjorn on the ground with a clang and grabbed Loki in a tight hug. “I’m supposed to be looking after you,” Thor had said, his voice sounding choked. “Why do you have to make it so difficult?”

Loki had shoved at him, but Thor didn’t let go. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” A terrible lie, considering the situation Thor had just extracted him from.

When Thor’s embrace had tightened, Loki had given in and hugged him back, pushing down the nausea that welled up as he remembered the feeling of being shoved against the wall and having his pants pulled off. It was the first time he’d learned firsthand that sometimes people simply took what they wanted.

He’d put his forehead on Thor’s shoulder and hugged him harder, and even though he hadn’t said _thank you_ , he’d known Thor had understood.

“Loki. _Loki_.” Thor’s hand was waving in front of his face, and Loki started, realizing he’d been so lost in the memory that he hadn’t even heard Thor talking to him. A bad memory, which often sank to into the murky depths of all his bad memories, until something stirred it up from the silt.

Shaking himself, Loki said, “Sorry. I was—thinking. About where we could bring her.”

“Any ideas?”

He snorted. “I was remembering Planet Sin.”

The expression on Thor’s face darkened. Ah. So he hadn’t forgotten. “There’s no way—not after what happened to you—”

“Obviously not.” Loki reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, forgetting, as always, that it couldn’t possibly be long enough to do so. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

Thor looked at him. “Do you really think I’ve ever forgotten any of the times you got yourself into trouble and I had to get you out of it?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki said, “And here I thought we were having a moment, brother.” He smiled a little when Thor opened his mouth to protest. Thor shut it before anything came out. Was he _learning?_

Sobering, Loki said, “We have to find out if she has family. And we won’t be able to do that if she won’t talk to us.”

Thor drummed his fingers on the table, then said, “Let me try.” When Loki held up a hand, an unmistakable _be my guest_ gesture, Thor climbed to his feet. His fingers grasped the edge of the table a bit too tightly and he seemed to need to lean on it a bit too much. Loki narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. It was just…unsettling to see his brother so weakened.

Loki turned on the bench, folding his knees up and resting his arm on the back of it to watch. As Thor settled himself in the other seat on the bridge, the girl looked at him warily. Thor just sat there with her, looking utterly at a loss. A smirk ghosted across Loki’s face. Yes, Thor always thought everything was so easy. Trying to get a traumatized child to talk didn’t have much in common with punching your way out of anything, though. Well, unless it was a brick wall. Loki could see how trying to get a traumatized child to talk might be a little like punching a brick wall.

“So,” Thor said.

The girl kept staring at him.

Clearing his throat, Thor said, “So, what’s your name?”

Oh, Norns. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. This was already a lost cause. Really, Thor’s heart was in the right place, but when it came to sensitivity and people who’d suffered a traumatic experience, he was too direct. The only question was, should Loki allow Thor to prove to both of them that this technique wasn’t going to work, or should he step in before his brother did more damage?

Of course, the girl didn’t answer. Nor did she move. She simply kept looking at him, as though she thought if she was still enough, everyone might forget she was there.

Thor shot a helpless look at Loki, who just shrugged back. He clasped his hands together, then tried again, “So—what…um…what do you do for fun?”

Loki put his hand to his forehead and savored the darkness of his eyelids. Then, he looked back up, stared at Thor hard enough to get his attention, and drew his finger across his throat. He almost felt bad at the defeated look on Thor’s face. Maybe he could have kept bumbling along, and eventually, just to get him to stop, the girl would have said something. Far more likely, though, that she’d go further into her shell.

Thor returned to the galley and heaved himself onto the bench. There was a silence, which Loki rather thought he deserved an award for.

“It’s killing you to be quiet right now,” Thor muttered.

“Not at all,” Loki said serenely. He popped one of the nuts in his mouth and smiled. And that said it all, really. He didn’t even need to come up with a biting remark; the smile was sharp enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone reading this! This is one of the Loki's Bad Memories chapters. Your comments give me life so if you feel so inclined, I would love to hear from you!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	24. Chapter 24

The problem lingered. If the girl wouldn’t talk, they didn’t know where to bring her. It was out of the question that she accompany them to Nidavellir and they couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. They needed to keep trying, but they had to be careful about it. It was clear she couldn’t be pushed. At least, it was clear to Loki. Loki knew about not wanting to talk. He wouldn’t force her to speak if she wasn’t ready.

So Loki waited. Hopefully Thor was thinking of a better conversational strategy.

Two days later, the two of them were quietly discussing where they were going, Loki arguing for one path and Thor another, as was their wont. Their MO. Loki had learned that expression on Earth and he rather liked it. One of the things he’d done at the New York Sanctum to entertain himself was try to learn some of Earth’s languages, rather than relying on his Allspeak to translate them.

When Strange had gotten wind of this, he’d said, “Learning new things—definitely your MO.” When Loki had looked at him questioningly—because his Allspeak _had_ failed him on that, Strange had said. “Modus operandi? Latin?” But Loki had shrugged. Strange had disappeared for a few minutes without a word, which was unusual for him.

When he reappeared in the study, he dropped several books on the end table next to Loki. “Latin,” he’d repeated. “I learned it for pre-med. Enjoy.”

Strange had often indulged him in things like this. He had observed early on that Loki was naturally curious—with a comparison to himself that Loki hadn’t appreciated, but still. There had been a point when Loki hadn’t wanted to have anything in common with Strange, a feeling which had largely fallen away. Possibly this was also a side effect of not having seen him in months. On their many walks around the city, he had acted as a sort of historic interpreter, indicating points of interest and telling Loki _all_ about them, though Loki had rolled his eyes at this.

Well, at first. There had come a shift, sometime after Strange had told Loki he was free to leave the Sanctum and Loki had come back willingly. Things had changed as autumn turned to winter. Once in awhile, Loki had pointed at something without prompting and asked, “What’s that?”

Strange had always smiled, that crooked tug at his mouth that Loki couldn’t seem to forget.

Anyway. The point was, disagreeing about where to go next was tradition by this point for Thor and Loki. Loki had a starchart up and he was flipping around it, which was annoying Thor, who kept telling him to slow down. “We might as well just choose a place at random,” Loki finally snapped. “What’s the point of _going_ somewhere, when we know where we’re going, but now isn’t the time to go there? Is it just to give us purpose?”

“Yes,” Thor said shortly. “Believe me, brother, I’ve learned the value of having purpose.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. Yes, he supposed that was true, and Loki should have known better than to poke that sore spot.

Running a hand through his hair, Loki sighed. It wasn’t just a sore spot for Thor. But he’d never known better than to poke at his own wounds.

There was a silence. Then, Thor looked at the girl, huddled miserably on Loki’s berth (or was it Thor’s, now?), folded in on herself. He met Loki’s eyes. _We should try talking to her again_ , he mouthed, and Loki furrowed his brow as though he couldn’t quite make out what Thor was trying to say. Thor gave him an exasperated look and Loki shrugged.

As Thor’s expression of exasperation morphed into irritation, Loki hissed, “ _What?_ You tried to talk to her. She didn’t want to talk. I think we need to give her more time.”

“ _You_ could talk to her.”

“You think I frightened her into not talking in the first place.”

“I never said that.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He was perfectly well aware, but he’d been hoping Thor had forgotten what he’d actually said. His brother was good at that. The first thing he usually forgot was anything cruel he’d said to Loki. “So when you say ‘we’ should talk to her—” Thor looked triumphant that Loki had been able to read his lips, which made him roll his eyes—“you mean _I_ should talk to her.”

“Well, she does know you better, brother.”

As Loki stood up, he gave Thor a withering look. “Please. Even _you_ can do better than that.” Thor chuckled.

Loki stood there, chewing at the inside of his lip and thinking. It had been days now, and while she was willing to nod and shake her head, the girl had shown no more signs of speaking than she had the day he’d met her. _Could_ she speak? Perhaps she wasn’t keeping silent because she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, talk after her ordeal. Maybe she’d never been able to speak at all.

Loki didn’t think so, though. Call it gut feeling, but he felt certain there was a way to get through to her so she’d say _something._ They didn’t even know her name—she was becoming not just the girl, but The Girl in his mind. That struck a chord with him, too. To be unnamed was, in some ways, to be unseen.

Perhaps she didn’t want to be seen. She’d watched everyone on her ship get slaughtered because they weren’t hiding, and she was.

Slowly, Loki made his way over to the berth. When he got there, he asked, “Can I sit down?”

The girl looked up at him, then nodded swiftly. He sat, his leathers seeming to creak very loudly. She continued to stare at him. There was a wary look in her eyes as always, though he fancied that she was a little less leery of him than Thor. It was a hard thing to lose everyone and everything. Even harder at her age, not a child anymore, not old enough to make her own way in the world. Loki remembered being her age, right around the time he’d turned four hundred and fifty. Doubtless her lifespan was more on the order of other mortals, of course.

He didn’t speak for another minute, turning possibilities over in his mind. She was a child, but she wasn’t a simpleton. He wouldn’t treat her as such. But she also wasn’t an adult. A balance, to be sure. He wished their mother were there. Frigga would have known exactly what to do.

But of course, Frigga wasn’t there, and they all knew why. Well, actually, only Loki knew why, and he intended to keep it that way forever. He pressed his lips together. That was beside the point.

Carefully, he said, “You know, we’re orphans.” Should he have said ‘we’re orphans, too?’ He suspected that her family had been on that ship, but he couldn’t be sure without her talking.

There was nothing but silence in response. Well, of course. She hadn’t spoken in days. Why in theNine Realms would he think _this_ would be the thing to get her to finally say something?

Then, there was a sound. Loki’s brow furrowed and he looked more closely at her. Tears were running down the girl’s face and her nose was leaking. She was biting her lip, trying not to make a sound. Her shoulders heaved several times, and then, suddenly, a sob burst out of her. She covered her face with her hands, muffling the sound of her crying with the heels of her hands, jamming them into her face so hard that Loki could see her skin turning white around them.

That was pain he knew. He let her cry. He’d never let himself cry the same way.

And Thor, miraculously, didn’t intervene. Loki didn’t even look at him, afraid he might take it as either an invitation or a request for help.

Finally, the girl’s sobs quieted. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and rubbed at her eyes with her fingers. Then, she looked up at him, sniffling, and asked in a small, hoarse voice, “You are?”

Loki swallowed and _definitely_ didn’t look at Thor. Why did it feel like getting one traumatized child to say two words was one of his greatest achievements? “Yes,” he said.

Scrubbing at the tear stains on her face, she asked, her voice quiet, still hoarse after days of no use, “How did they die?”

With a hard exhale through his nose, Loki said, “Swiftly, I suppose. Our father…” At this, he did glance over at Thor, who gave him the tiniest of nods.

_This is your doing_. Oh, Thor’s words had hurt at the time. Thor’s words _still_ hurt, even though Loki knew he’d been angry, lashing out, doing what he always did and saying the first thing that entered his head. _Stranded him on Earth to die._ He’d blamed Loki for their father’s death. But Loki hadn’t meant it. He hadn’t want to kill their father. He’d just wanted…he’d _wanted._ That was the point. Wanted to be taken seriously. To be valued. To be seen as worthy. To be loved by the family he’d never felt good enough for.

He drew in a breath. “Our father died after breaking a very powerful enchantment that had been placed on him. It was…peaceful.” _He told me he loved me. He called me his son._ Shaking himself, he added, “Thor and I were both there.” Licking his lips, he went on, “My mother was killed in battle.”

His mother had been murdered by a monster.

Loki’s heart twisted hard and he had to fight the urge not to tear up himself.

The girl nodded slowly, then said quietly, “Like my parents.”

“Your parents were on the ship with you.”

She nodded, looking at her lap. “My older brother and sister, too.” The whole family, then. Wiped out. She cleared her throat, then looked up at him. “Were you and your mother fighting together when she died?”

He took a breath, which caught in his throat. “No.” _No, I was locked in the dungeons, and I told a creature how to get to her because I thought it would be amusing to cause a little extra trouble for my brother and father. I destroyed everything._

Well. His father _had_ told him that everywhere he went, death followed him. To be perfectly honest, his father hadn’t been proved wrong yet.

The girl twisted her fingers together. “I should have fought,” she said, her voice barely audible.

His eyebrows drew together. “No, you shouldn’t have. Your parents told you to hide, yes?” A blind stab in the dark, but she nodded. He sighed. “You did the right thing. You did what they told you to do, and you lived, and that’s what they would have wanted.” This felt like a deeply trite thing to say, trite enough to be dishonest, but of course it was true. A small smile tugged at his lips. “And I’m glad you listened. What would I have done without you? My brother owes his life to you. I would have lost him without you. That means I’m in your debt.”

She looked at him, her eyes growing wide. He didn’t know if she understood who she’d fallen in with. Either she was in awe of the two of them in the way that children sometimes were of all adults, or she wasn’t nearly in _enough_ awe. An Asgardian prince, the God of Mischief, had just told her he was in her debt. And he meant it.

Without meaning to, he caught Thor’s eye. His brother had a funny look on his face, the kind of look he got when Loki let slip something sentimental, and Thor couldn’t decide whether to pursue it, to try to widen that crack, or to treat it like a piece of blown glass.

The girl sniffled a bit more, but gradually, she stopped. Loki didn’t push her to speak again, but he also didn’t get up. There was something that made him think she welcomed his company. Or perhaps his presence was a better way of putting it. At least, he didn’t get the sense that she wanted him to leave her alone.

Finally, she said, “I just…I just did what anyone would do.”

He nodded and remained silent for another minute. Then, nonchalantly, as though it didn’t much matter, he asked, “What’s your name?”

A flicker of—not quite alarm, but perhaps unease, passed across her face. Damn. He shouldn’t have said anything.

But then it faded. She mumbled something. Loki hesitated, but then he asked, “Sorry?”

She looked up and away from him quickly, but then she said, “It’s Mira.”

With another nod, Loki repeated, “Mira. It’s nice to meet you.” Taking a chance, he held out a hand. When she just stared blankly, he smiled a little and said, “Where I come from, we do this sort of hand clasp and arm grab. It’s very…macho.” He thought he saw Thor roll his eyes, but _please._ It was. “But where we—er, on the planet where my people live now, they hold each other’s hands when they meet and move it up and down. I’ll show you?”

Mira looked deeply dubious about this, but she slipped her hand into his. Solemnly, he shook it. “There,” he said. “Now you know how to say hello the human way.”

“Why don’t your people live on Asgard anymore?” she asked shyly. So she’d been listening to him when he’d made his babbled introduction to her. She’d probably been listening to every word they’d said to each other. Good thing Loki had assumed as much. It was difficult to keep anything private in a ship of this size. Too traumatized to talk, which meant she’d only listen all the harder.

He clasped his hands in his lap. “Our home…wasn’t suitable for living anymore.” Rather an understatement, but he didn’t need to go into the details of Ragnarok with her. “They live on Earth now, in a town by the sea.”

That almost made it sound nice. Too bad he was well enough acquainted with the reality of New Asgard to know that even this was rather talking it up.

She made a noise. There was a long pause before she said, “I’ve never seen the sea.”

“Oh.” Loki shifted back, leaning against the bulkhead and drawing a foot up to rest his heel on the edge of the berth. “Well, it’s a bit like space, I suppose. Vast and empty, except not really at all.”

The first time Loki had seen the ocean—an actual ocean, not Asgard’s water—was on Alfheim, when their mother had brought them for a visit. He remembered being fascinated by the crystal dolphins arcing out of the water, sun flashing on their fins, and the little crabs the color of wine that washed in with the tide, then disappeared again with it. While Thor had splashed around in the water, brandishing a rock and yelling about how it was Mjølnir, Loki had collected a bucketful of the crabs, careful not to let them catch his fingers in their pincers, then brought them back to where their mother was sitting on the beach, keeping an eye on both of them.

Settling down on the blanket that was spread across the sand, Loki had carefully pulled a crab out of the bucket and showed it to Frigga, who had laughed and said it looked very prickly. Loki had raised it to eye level and said, “Maybe. I think that’s just how it looks though. Just because something looks prickly and ugly doesn’t mean it actually _is._ ”

The smile had wiped itself from Frigga’s face and Loki had been afraid he’d said something wrong. “Sorry, Mother,” he said, moving to put the crab back in the bucket. “If you think they’re too ugly—”

“No,” she said, and she’d smiled again, reaching for his arm. Her smile was back, gentler, and she put a finger on the crab’s shell, giving it a tiny stroke with her finger. “Not at all. Sometimes you just surprise me, Loki. Such profound thoughts.”

He’d shrugged and held a finger in range of the crab’s pincers. It hooked onto his finger, but it only pinched a little. Nothing to worry about, it turned out. “Can I bring them home?”

“Perhaps one or two,” Frigga said. “But we must ask King Frey and Queen Gerd.”

At that moment, Thor had bounded up, shaking water off himself like a dog. “Ask King Frey and Queen Gerd what?”

“If I can keep them,” Loki said, nodding towards the bucket. He couldn’t really show his collection to Thor when the crab he was holding still had him by the finger. Thor studied them, then said, “There’s a million things here that we don’t have at home and _that’s_ what you want to keep?”

“We don’t have these at home either,” Loki said defensively.

Thor shrugged, conceding this point. “So why do we have to ask?” he said. “You’re the queen of _all_ the Realms, Mum. Can’t you just take whatever you want?”

A shadow had crossed Frigga’s face. Thor wouldn’t have noticed, but Loki did. “We cannot simply take what we want,” she said. “The two of you will help each other rule the Nine Realms one day, and you must remember that. Even gods cannot just take what they want.”

The seriousness of her tone had made Thor sit up and listen. Loki had taken those words deep inside him and planted them in his heart. Even if he was a god, there were rules. He couldn’t just take something that he wanted. So he wouldn’t. Simple.

It made his intestines writhe to think of how he’d betrayed that lesson.

Mira was looking at him, so Loki smiled at her. “There was no sea on Asgard either,” he said. Not like the sea on Earth or Alfheim or Vanaheim. Just water pouring off the edge of the planet. It wasn’t the same.

She pulled her knees closer to her chest and stared at him without speaking. He let her, not making eye contact with Thor on the off chance that she felt…who knew? Put on the spot, or like she was a spectacle. But after another minute, she said in a small voice, “I’d like to see it. The sea. Where you live.”

A dry, bitter smile twisted at his mouth, but he managed to mostly keep it off his face for her sake. “I live here,” he said. This didn’t give her any pause, which was what he’d suspected. Mira’s family must have been spacers, uprooted from their planet to travel the cosmos, living their whole lives spaceside and only setting down on planets or asteroids for supplies or for a break.

The idea of it actually made Loki shudder, but he was going to have to get used to it. It was going to be his life, after all. And he had a very long life to live.

Without meaning to, he caught Thor’s eye. His brother looked troubled.

“I’d like to see where Asgard is,” she corrected herself, as though he hadn’t been deliberately pedantic. Ah, children.

Thor was shaking his head, so Loki glared at him. Immediately, Thor stilled. Looking at Mira, he said, “We’ll see.”

This seemed to satisfy her. She rested her cheek on her knees, and then she asked, “Can I have a jam stick?”

He snorted. And to think, he thought he’d hidden those well after they’d come back from Kitson. Thor had a nasty habit of finding and consuming the treats Loki bought for himself. And Loki didn’t even care that Thor was supposed to be watching what he ate, the far greater issue was that they were _his_ , and if his brother wanted jam sticks, he could buy them himself.

“Yes,” he said. “Have as many as you want.”

A smile lit her face and she scampered off the bed so fast that Loki hardly even saw her move. Thor came over to him and Loki prepared to bask in his praise for finally learning their stray’s name and getting her to speak. Instead, Thor said, “Didn’t buy any jam sticks on Kitson, eh, Loki?”

With a sickly smile, Loki replied, “You can have one too, brother. Just don’t ruin your appetite for dinner.”

Thor snorted and went to turn the comm system on, leaving Loki to scowl at his boots. Of course. Praise from his brother? What had he been thinking? _Honestly, Loki. You’re a thousand and fifty-four years old. You should know better._

But Thor turned around and met Loki’s eyes, and with a smile, he mouthed, _Good job._

Loki stared at him. Then, his mouth twitched into a smile too, and he jerked a nod at his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, she finally has a name! I hope you all like Mira 😊 Thank you so much as always for reading, and please let me know what you think if you'd like!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are brief mentions in this chapter of some of the things that befell Loki between his Fall and Thanos finding him, which include non-consensual drug use and non-con, as well as sex-trafficking.

It turned out, Mira liked to talk. Once Loki got her started, she didn’t seem to want to stop. Planets she’d been to, her favorite foods, a pet myulg she’d once had (neither of them had any idea what this was; when they’d said so, she’d launched into a detailed explanation of their care). Loki and Thor mostly listened to her for the rest of the day, only contributing when she paused and stared at them, leading both of them to rush to provide a response. They weren’t adding much to the conversation, but she seemed content simply to be having one. Her loneliness was clear, as was her grief—and the fact that she didn’t know how to process it. And both Odinsons were very familiar with _that_ feeling.

Eventually, Mira exhausted herself and climbed up into her berth, saying, “Good-night, Loki. Good-night, Thor.”

“Good-night, Mira,” Thor said, grinning at Loki. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, waiting for her to drift off. Over the past few days, her sleep had been fitful. She tossed and turned, which Loki knew because he wasn’t exactly comfortable over on the galley bench. Listening to her restlessness didn’t keep him awake, but it certainly wasn’t soothing.

Tonight, though, she dropped off to sleep quickly. When her breathing deepened and slowed, Thor said, “I’m tired too.”

Settling himself lengthwise on the bench so that his back was against the wall and his legs were stretched in front of him, Loki asked, “You’re still not feeling completely better, then?”

“I feel fine,” Thor said.

“Mm.” This clearly wasn’t true, but Loki didn’t want to get into an argument about it. If Thor was going to get some sleep and continue healing, that was a good thing. On the other hand, Loki wasn’t tired, so as Thor brushed his teeth and changed, he went back to the star chart, pulling up routes, calculating distances from possible destinations to Nidavellir.

When Thor settled himself into his berth, Loki turned off the lights, closed the star charts with a swipe of his hand, and stood in the dark. He was glad Mira was talking. It was impossible not to feel responsible for her now—not to feel that, in some silly way, she had become family. Even though she wasn’t, even though they were going to drop her off at the first reasonable opportunity to do so.

Leaning his shoulder against the bulkhead, Loki finally allowed himself to think something else: he didn’t believe Nidavellir was going to help them in their attempt to reopen the Bifrost.

But he wasn’t going to tell Thor that. He was perfectly content to allow Thor to labor under the delusion that it was going to solve their problems, that they’d channel the energy from the dying star and find their way back into the Bifrost. And he didn’t mind the delay in getting there. As for the reason that he thought these things—well, he wasn’t ready to confront any of that head on.

“It’s not your fault that Father died,” Thor’s voice suddenly said in the darkness, so quiet that for a moment, Loki wondered if he’d actually imagined it. But when he glanced over at the berth, he could see Thor sitting up, watching him.

He glanced at Mira’s sleeping form, then back to the front of the ship. Did he want to have this conversation? No, he did not. Of course he didn’t. Would that matter? This was Thor, so probably not.

With a quiet sigh through his nose, he said, “We don’t have to do this.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “In fact, I’d rather not.”

“Loki,” Thor said.

Loki leaned back so his head was resting against the bulkhead, watching Thor out of the corner of his eye. Then, stalking over to the berth, he sat down and muttered, “Thor, it’s in the past.” Even if Thor blaming Loki for their father’s death was in Loki’s much more recent past than Thor’s, it was still over and done. Talking about it would change nothing. “It doesn’t matter.”

Of course it mattered. It mattered the same way every hurtful thing that Thor said had always mattered. Thor, who didn’t think before he spoke, who couldn’t see why Loki took everything so seriously. To Thor, something said in anger was just that—something said in anger. He didn’t understand that to Loki, anything said in anger came from an essential core of truth. If his father said his birthright was to die, if Thor said ‘this is your doing,’ these were things that deep down, his loved ones believed.

These were his ‘imagined slights,’ he supposed. Only to him, they were hardly imagined. He sighed again. “What do you want to say?”

It wasn’t so dark that Loki couldn’t see the surprise on Thor’s face. “What…what do you mean?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Loki said. “What do _you_ want to say? It’s clear that you’re the one that needs to say something to me about it.” Interlacing his fingers together in his lap and looking towards them, Loki said, “I’ve never thought I’m responsible for Father’s death.”

Lies. He’d always feared it and always shoved the thought away. What if his spell _had_ weakened Odin? What if trapping him on Earth had shortened his life? Did Loki care? No. No, he didn’t. Why should he? It was no more than Odin had deserved.

Yes, of course he cared. Norns, he couldn’t even be convincing in his own head. The stupid thing was, having Mira on board put Loki in the closest thing to a parental position he’d ever been in. The resemblance between the current situation and actual parenthood was glancing, but…well, Loki _did_ feel responsible for her. And it made him think of his own father and the way Odin had mishandled everything. Maybe not everything. Just _nearly_ everything. It would be nice if, in the years that followed, Mira would look back on this time and see Loki and Thor as a bright spot.

“You weren’t responsible for it, that’s what I want to say,” Thor finally replied. “For Father dying. It was his time. He’d been alive too long. The universe had worn him down.”

“Perhaps it was the lies,” Loki said darkly. “Perhaps it was the fact that he told me I might one day be king, when what he really meant was that he was going to install me on the throne of a frozen wasteland, and that I could be king of the monsters that I’d been raised to hate for my entire life.” He paused and dug his fingernails into his palms. “Perhaps it was the fact that he locked our sister away in Hel, because he’d turned her into the monster that she was and then didn’t want to deal with the consequences.”

Oh, that sounded familiar, didn’t it? Loki remembered a night in the weapons vault, _Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?_ and Odin had said no but Loki knew it was true. He’d heard the same stories. Not from their mother. Frigga had never told the horrible, frightening stories he’d heard about the Jotnar, even though Thor and he had both begged her to. The two of them had heard them elsewhere, and of course, now it was obvious that the reason Frigga hadn’t told them was because her son was one of them.

Had she pitied him? The thought was terrible. What if everything that he’d thought had been love, and the special connection they’d always shared, had been nothing but pity?

Thor was staring at him, looking deeply uncertain and nervous. Could Loki really blame him? Who _wouldn’t_ be nervous dealing with him? _He_ didn’t even know what his mood was going to be from moment to moment, if he was going to cry with happiness or lash out in rage. He was an utter mess, and it was a miracle that Thor had put up with him for as long as he had.

Loki twisted his fingers hard against each other until his joints strained. It hurt. “Perhaps it was what he did to you, telling you that you were worthy, raising you the way he did, and then banishing you when you behaved in exactly the way he’d always taught you that you should.” 

Oh, gods. They hadn’t talked about this in…ever. They hadn’t talked about it _ever._ That day on Asgard, that day that Thor hadn’t been crowned king. Loki had goaded Thor into doing something stupid that day, as he had so many times before, but it had all blown up in his face and had destroyed everything. Nearly destroyed everything. The fact that they were sitting there together was proof that there’d been some pieces to pick up and reassemble.

He’d never admitted anything. Never confessed what he’d done. As far as anyone knew, he’d simply gone mad with power once the throne had fallen to him. That was half true. It hadn’t been the power, it had been everything else that had driven him to the edge of sanity.

It had been years and it hadn’t come out. Nor would it, because he didn’t need to say anything. They were fixing things, weren’t they? Smashing all of it apart again was stupid. Smashing all of it apart was something their enemies would do. But—Loki was his own worst enemy, wasn’t he?

He opened his mouth. What was he going to say? _I’m the one that started all of this. If not for me orchestrating a petty, jealous prank, none of this might have happened._ He wouldn’t have found out he was a Frost Giant, not then. Most likely, he still wouldn’t know, even twenty years later. It wasn’t much time for Asgardians. Would Thanos have come? Or had Loki’s Fall helped to jumpstart the Mad Titan’s plans? In any case, he wouldn’t have been part of them.

Then again, he’d brought the Avengers together, and they’d been the ones to defeat Thanos. It was hard to suppress a bitter smile. Was his greatest achievement uniting six people who could barely stand to be in the same room as each other, all for the shared purpose of bringing him down?

Thor glanced at him and Loki checked himself. The last thing he needed was for this to show on his face. The urge to confess his sins passed. Or rather, the urge to confess his sins receded to the place where they hid uneasily inside him. The longer he waited, the more he collected, and the worse it would be when he finally unburdened himself. Then again, maybe it was his punishment to carry it with him. “Never mind, brother,” Loki sighed. “I’m glad to know you don’t really think I killed Father.”

“I’m sorry that I ever said it,” Thor murmured, looking like he knew he’d started a cascade of thought in Loki’s mind. But Thor had never known how to ask what was going on in Loki’s head. For most of their lives, Loki had assumed it was because Thor didn’t want to know. Now, he was starting to understand that not wanting to know was the last reason Thor didn’t ask.

The two of them looked at each other and finally, Loki stood up. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “You’re still recovering.”

“Right,” Thor said. Well, look at that, he was being listened to. “Sleep well, Loki.”

He wouldn’t, not after this, but it was a nice thought. Nodding to Thor, he went back to the galley to lie down and let his thoughts swirl until they exhausted him.

* * *

“I’ve been to this planet,” Mira said, pointing it out on the star chart.

Loki raised his eyebrows at her doubtfully from the pilot’s chair. “Have you?”

“Yep.” She nodded and smiled in a way that would have been very convincing, had it not been the way he himself smiled when he was lying. “So we can go there and resupply.”

“Mm,” Loki said noncommittally. It had been three days since Mira began speaking to them. She still hadn’t mentioned any family that might remain to her, and any attempts to bring the conversation around to the subject were headed off. Clearly, she knew what they were trying to do, and also clearly, she wasn’t interested in it. “Been taking stock of our supplies, have you?”

She hoisted herself up onto the control console and swung her legs, looking more serious. “You don’t have _any_ veg or fruit.”

From the other bridge chair, Thor guffawed, then turned it into a cough as Loki glared at him. “They don’t keep,” Loki said, hearing a note of defensiveness in his tone. Which was absolutely ridiculous, he was speaking with a child; he didn’t need to justify their eating habits. They couldn’t buy more than a little fresh food at a time, and they’d run out. What were they supposed to do?

She looked exasperated. “You just don’t know which ones to get. I’ll show you.”

Thor cleared his throat in what sounded, again, suspiciously like a laugh. “It’s not a bad idea, Loki,” he said.

Loki arched an eyebrow and said pointedly, “Have you been to Promachos?”

“No, and neither have you. It’s just a market planet,” Thor said. When Loki made a noise, Thor peered at him more closely and asked, “ _Have_ you been there?”

Had he been there? Yes, he supposed he had. Drugged and sent to the flesh markets, his luck finally having run out. Still vaguely hoping that Heimdall might see him, that Thor might come for him, but his faith in both slipping through his fingers just like every one of his dreams ever had. That was where the Maw had found him. Why him? What about his clouded gaze and his snarled hair had said, _yes, this is the one. This is the one Thanos will send to retrieve the Tesseract._

At first, when he’d arrived on _The Sanctuary_ , he’d thought he was better off.

“We’ll stick to the southern continent,” Loki said briskly, as though he hadn’t heard Thor. Mira grinned. They’d have to keep an eye on her. The southern markets _should_ be safe, but his trust in the goodness of the galaxy had been worn down long ago.

Once they’d made the decision to go there, it was an easy jump point away. Promachos had the distinction of being the planet situated closest to a jump point in the entire network—so close that you could see it opening from the surface. The two were locked in close, synchronous orbit, some feat of engineering that was no doubt very impressive. It was one of the reasons it had become what it was. Half the time people didn’t even refer to it as Promachos—it was simply the Market Planet. A giant, sprawling market, spread across much of the planet. You could buy anything you wanted there.

The thought made Loki grimace, but it was a big planet, and billions of people went there all the time without encountering a whiff of the unsavory sales that went on. It would make Mira happy to go, and she deserved some cheering up.

As Loki piloted _The Bifrost_ into the airfield, Mira asked, “Are you really brothers?”

Loki glanced over at Thor and Thor’s mouth twitched suspiciously, as though he was trying to bite back laughter. “We’re really brothers,” Thor said.

“You don’t look the same,” she said. “Everyone always says my sister and me look the same.”

“I’m adopted,” Loki told her.

This interested her more than their landing. “Really? Do you know who your real parents are? I mean not your _real_ parents, but your real ones?”

It was amazing how a subject that he never could have broached with anyone—not Thor, not his mother, certainly not his father—seemed so effortlessly innocuous when a child brought it up. “No,” he lied. Half-lied. He _didn’t_ know who his biological mother was. Thor’s glance flickered towards him, but what did he expect? Their conversation the previous night had already dredged up bad memories of that time, the last thing he needed to do was inform this girl that yes, as a matter of fact, he knew exactly who his biological father was, and he’d murdered him in cold blood.

It wasn’t so much the fact that he’d murdered him that made him not want to talk about it. It was the fact that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

_You haven’t changed._

He pushed the thought away and followed the instructions from air traffic control. Within thirty minutes they’d set down. The two suns were bright outside, so Thor pulled out a couple pairs of sunglasses, tossing Loki’s to him. Alright, so Earth _did_ have its good points, Gucci sunglasses being one of them. Thor looked like he’d gotten his from the Spar in the Tønsberg city center.

When they left the airfield, they hired a hover cart to bring them to the market. Mira’s mouth hung open as they sped by street after street filled with shops and stalls, electronic marquees and banners in hundreds of languages that Loki recognized, but hundreds more that he didn’t. Each street screamed with color. He had a vague memory that the different districts were color-coded somehow, though he couldn’t make heads nor tails of it as they passed by.

As Mira’s eyes got progressively wider, Thor asked her, his tone teasing, “So, you’ve been here before, have you?”

Her mouth snapped shut and she looked panicked, but when Thor smiled at her, she calmed. “Maybe I was thinking of a different planet,” she said. Thor snorted and Loki couldn’t help smiling crookedly, leaning back in his seat and letting the sun shine on his face as he listened to Thor and Mira talk. It felt both very strange and unbelievably normal. It was easy to pretend that Mira was an undamaged child, that inside her head there _wasn’t_ an emotional war zone. And now that she was talking, Thor was in his element with her. Well, his brother was a bit of an overgrown child himself. Still, the smile stayed on Loki’s face as he listened to them, and Thor glanced over once or twice, looking pleased.

Eventually, the driver brought them to a cul-de-sac where a triple arch led into the market. Thor paid the fare with his thumbprint and the three of them set off. They’d requested to be brought to a section that sold fresh food, and—well, had they _ever_ been brought to a section that sold fresh food. Loki wasn’t one to let his gormlessness show on his face. He was a prince, he was well read, he was well-traveled. He didn’t impress easily.

But—the stalls, the stores, the carts, piled high with fruits and vegetables and things that could have been both or neither or something in between, made his mouth fall open. There was a stand selling fruit that looked familiar enough, apples and pears of some kind, bunches of grapes that were a bright blue, but still recognizably grapes. But the storefront across from it was filled with things that Loki didn’t even have names for, long, thin stalk-like things with bushy tufts waving from either end, a round fruit of some kind that shimmered, something that looked like a tentacle, covered in orange moss.

Thor’s eyes had widened, which made Loki feel a bit less ridiculous. His brother, too, was well-traveled, which Loki took some credit for. During the time he’d ruled Asgard, he’d spent a lot of time thinking up plausible, but far-flung, places to send Thor to put out fires. They were usually genuine fires, but much of the time, someone else probably could have taken care of it. And he made sure Sif and Thor never crossed paths, as he didn’t want them discussing any of the quirks that Odin seemed go have developed of late.

Honestly, he’d have been content to have Thor on Midgard, where he knew what his brother was up to, but Thor had been restless. Grieving, Loki now knew. For _him._ This was something Jane—or should he say, the Mighty Thor—had told him, and which he hadn’t really believed. Surely his death wouldn’t drive his brother to wander the galaxy, looking for something that he couldn’t find? He’d seen it himself, though, when Thor had come to the Sanctum at Christmastime to talk to Strange. To try to make Strange tell him the future, actually. Strange, of course, hadn’t budged on that. If Strange didn’t want you to know something, he was very good at not telling.

Loki had only come to understand the bottomless well of grief that was capable of existing inside Thor on that day. Before _The Statesman_ , his brother had kept himself circling the edge of it. Afterwards, after Thanos and the Snap, he’d no longer bothered.

Anyway. The point was, neither of them were provincial, but Loki definitely felt it as he looked around. When he’d been to Promachos before, he hadn’t exactly experienced anything nice about it. Not that the flesh markets weren’t also full of merchandise he’d never seen before, but he’d barely been conscious. And as he’d been a piece of merchandise himself, well, it hadn’t seemed quite as exciting to gawk.

A shudder crawled up his spine. His memories of those days were patchy, stitched together with half-remembered impressions and snatches of conversation, snatches of pain (“He’s a fighter, you have to keep him in line”), and sharp, jagged recollections of potential buyers _testing the merchandise_. Over and over and over, days and nights of it. He wished they’d given him stronger drugs, so he didn’t have any memories of it at all. And he wished he didn’t have to remember what had come after, but all of that was etched across his mind like a blade scoring ice, precision lines through his brain.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked him. Gears clicked back into place in his mind as he returned to the present and looked down at Mira. She was combing her fingers through her dark blue hair, looking concerned. Thor was a few stalls down, picking up tubers. Er—at least, Loki thought they were tubers.

With a slight smile, Loki said, “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”

She nodded, looking deeply sad for a moment. Of course. Likely when she allowed herself to think, her thoughts turned to darkness. Loki felt guilty. The only reason they were here was because they’d thought it would cheer her up. “Come on,” he said. “Clearly my brother and I haven’t a clue how to feed ourselves. It’s a good thing you’re here, you know?”

She laughed, though it seemed a little unwilling. Well, Loki understood that, too. “Okay,” she said. “You just need to get things that do good in art atmo—” Spacer slang; artificial atmosphere. “—anything soft gets funny after a few days, and it’s good if you can find things that are special bred for it, like freighter veg and stuff.” Giving him a doubtful look, she asked, “Don’t you know about this stuff? You’re old. Old people are supposed to know stuff.”

With a surprised laugh, Loki said, “I don’t, truly. Most of our food on Asgard came from Asgard itself, and a lot of it came from Vanaheim, too. That was another planet that Asgard ruled over. And,” he added, “I’m _very_ old, so you should keep that in mind. Just because someone’s old doesn’t mean they know everything.”

“How old?” she asked, as though she suspected him of lying. Fair, really.

He raised an eyebrow. “One thousand and fifty-four.”

“You are _not._ ”

“I am!” He grinned at her and raised a hand. “I swear to you by the Allfather.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know who that is.”

Quite an education he was getting in these planets outside the Nine Realms. Asgard had been everything, Odin had been _Everything_ , but out here, a child could wave away the idea of the Allfather as though he’d been nothing. It had offended him on Preccat. Now, it made him wonder if his offense was part of the lie.

Mira was looking at him doubtfully. “You’re old, but you don’t look _that_ old.”

“We live a long time on Asgard,” Loki said. “How old are you?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, but then, hesitantly, she replied, “Twelve.”

“Right, so—” He wasn’t great at the conversion, but it wasn’t an exact science. “If I aged like you did, I’d be about thirty.” Thirty-one? Something like that, anyway.

Making a face, she said, “That’s _still_ old.”

He laughed. It felt genuine. “Let’s get some food. Then we can actually look at something fun, what do you say?”

The way her face lit up answered his question, and she grabbed his hand to drag him to where Thor was standing. For the next hour, the three of them wound their way through the food market, filling two bags full of vegetables and fruits that she insisted would keep for months, or sometimes years. The first several times one of them protested that they had no idea what to do with the thing she was handing them, she said she would show them.

Afterwards, they ate lunch from a cart selling some of the shimmering round fruit, then began exploring the rest of the market. They walked through the spice section, the sweets section, and several streets selling tea. One archway led into the meat market, but Mira took one look inside, paled, and stumbled backwards. Thor steered her away from it, walking in the opposite direction until they found themselves passing out of the food market entirely, into the garment district, which went on and on for what seemed like miles.

Finally, hours later, they left this behind too. The fact that she wasn’t exhausted yet was incredible. Loki was. They had to have walked eight or nine miles by that point, up and down alleys, through covered arcades, cobblestoned streets, stall after stall after store after store. Loki had long ago lost track of where they were and how to get back to anything that they’d seen in the past six hours. He shifted the bag of fruit and vegetables to his other shoulder and glanced at Thor, who was carrying an identical bag.

“She seems happy,” Thor said, keeping an eye on Mira as she skipped ahead of them, stopping to look at stalls, then darting ahead again.

Loki nodded, remembering her reaction to the meat market. “It’s a distraction. It will take her longer than a week to recover from what she’s been through.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I hope she’s able to.”

Thor bumped Loki’s shoulder with a fist. He tried not to shy away. “You’re good with her,” Thor said. When Loki shrugged, Thor added, “I’m serious, brother. You were good with the children on _The Statesman_ , too.” A stricken look ghosted over Thor’s face as he said the words. Clearly Mira wasn’t the only one who had past traumas to recover from. Still, this was good, Loki supposed. Neither of them brought _The Statesmen_ up frequently. The good things, the healing, the friendships, the late nights drinking and talking, Loki making Thor laugh as he hadn’t done in years, they were all tinged with the blackness of what had come next.

“I’m not sure about that,” Loki demurred, watching as Mira studied a rack of glowing necklaces. Certainly more expensive than what they could afford with their limited funds, so he hoped she didn’t decide she had to have one. He had a feeling both of them would have trouble saying no to her.

Looking at him, Thor said, “I am. You set up a school for them.”

Snorting, Loki said, “Your memory is failing you. It bore far more resemblance to a nursery than it did to a school.”

“You had lessons.”

“Once or twice.”

“Having lessons once or twice was still having lessons.” They stopped, watching as Mira continued studying the necklaces. She lifted one off the rack and held it up to study the glowing gem. “You’re good with children, Loki,” Thor said. “It’s an observation and a compliment. You don’t have to argue.”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki replied, “Of course I have to argue. What do you think this is?” When Thor chuckled, Loki allowed himself a small smile.

“You know,” Thor said, the heavy-handed nonchalance in his voice sending up red flags, “that’s something New Asgard doesn’t have.”

“Children?” Loki said, playing dumb and immediately regretting it. Thanos hadn’t discriminated. He’d slaughtered Asgard’s children as easily as he had the adults. At least they’d managed to evacuate most of them, though Loki would never forgive himself for allowing a single Asgardian to die that day.

“No,” Thor said. “A school.”

“Mm.” Loki was getting increasingly worried that Mira was going to turn around and ask for the necklace. “What do they do, make repairs in the fishing nets because their fingers are smaller?”

Thor glared at him. “No. They _go_ to school. There just isn’t one in New Asgard.”

It couldn’t be overstated how uninterested Loki was in the education policies of New Asgard. Yes, his people lived there, but he had no personal stake or interest in the place. “Where do they go, then?”

Uncertainty flickered over Thor’s face. “They go…I…er. I’m not exactly sure.” Loki didn’t push this issue. It was easy to imagine what had happened, anyway. The children would have been running wild in the months after the Snap. Brunnhilde, ruling New Asgard in all but name, would have gone to Thor, drunk, useless, drowning in depression and grief, and said something needed to be done, and he was the king, so what should they do? And Thor most likely would have slurred at her to figure it out.

And Brunnhilde, oh, he could picture her, her jaw working, then settling, clenched, as she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Because could she blame him? Could she blame him for being this way, when she knew what it was like to lose everything and to hide from it at the bottom of a bottle? But the Valkyrie was the Valkyrie, and it would have irritated her, anyway.

“I think they go to school in Tønsberg somewhere,” Thor finally said.

Arching an eyebrow again, Loki said, “Oh. I see. So you’re raising humans.”

“No,” Thor said, making a face as though this was the most stupid thing he’d heard in his whole life. “We’re not raising _humans_ , I mean—not that I have a problem with humans, I love humans—”

“As you’ve demonstrated,” Loki muttered, rolling his eyes. Not that he should talk.

“The point is,” Thor said, dropping all pretense of subtlety, “you’ve got some experience with it, and you should come back and—”

Loki’s glare was poisonous enough that Thor took a step back. “ _No,_ ” he hissed. “I will _not._ ”

Before Thor could say anything else, Loki adjusted the bag on his shoulder and went to join Mira. The shopkeeper looked relieved to see that she had a connection to an adult in the vicinity. “This jewelry is pretty,” she said.

“Yes,” Loki agreed. There was one necklace whose stone shifted from blue to green and reminded him of Stephen Strange. Speaking of loving humans. Loki and his doomed affections for another universe’s Strange was far more pathetic than anything Thor had ever done. He considered buying one necklace for Mira and the blue and green one for himself, just to spite Thor. Then he remembered that spiting Thor would just be spiting himself, since their funds were shared, and additionally that he was supposed to be getting over Strange, since the nice one was gone and he hated the one in this universe.

Though the Strange that had popped into his head _had_ been this universe’s. Loki didn’t know how he knew that, since they looked the same. But he did. And that was foolish, because he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for this universe’s Strange.

Luckily, Mira seemed mature enough to understand that her financial situation had changed along with her circumstances. It wasn’t much of a mystery that the two of them weren’t rich. She put the necklace back and turned around to smile at him. He smiled back. Then, she pointed and said, “Can I get that?”

His brow furrowing, Loki turned to look at what she was pointing at. When his eyes fell on it, his breath died in his throat.

“Thor,” he said, his tone so uninterested, _so_ casual, that even his brother couldn’t fail to pick up on the fact that something was up.

And Thor took the hint, moving to join them, then glancing over his shoulder at what Loki’s eyes were locked on. “Ymir’s bones,” Thor said under his breath.

Mira was heading into the shop already. It seemed to be, if one was being kind, a shop for curios and antiques. If one were not being kind, and to be fair, usually Loki wasn’t in much of a mood to be kind, it was full of junk. But Mira had been unerringly drawn to the one object of value that Loki could see, which she picked up and studied.

Thor’s voice was almost strangled as he said, “That’s the Casket of…”

“Ancient Winters,” Loki finished faintly.

“I don’t understand,” Thor said. Loki just shook his head. “How could it possibly have survived Ragnarok?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did it get _here?_ ”

“I don’t know.”

“How—”

“I don’t _know_ , Thor,” Loki snapped. “But we have to buy it. I don’t care what it costs.”

Thor looked doubtful, but he didn’t argue. “Well, Mira will be happy about that. Should she really be handling it?”

“Probably not,” Loki said.

The fact that Mira was so taken with it was a separate problem. Obviously she couldn’t have the Casket of Ancient Winters, an extremely dangerous relic and weapon, created to conquer, or, barring that, destroy worlds. But he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of telling her that. They might need to buy the necklace to take the sting out of not allowing her to have the Casket. Bait and switch, time honored tactic of liars, cheats, and parents everywhere.

Stepping into the shop, Thor cleared his throat and caught the shopkeeper’s eye. The woman approached and Thor asked, “How much for the…uh…jewelry box?”

Oh, that was actually quite good. Loki gave Thor an impressed look, then turned his attention to Mira. She was turning the Casket of Ancient Winters over in her hands, studying the pattern etched on it. “Can I see?” Loki asked her. With a nod and a smile, she handed it over to him.

The moment his fingers touched it, his eyes locked on them, remembering all too well the effect it had on him. He was prepared to hide it with a glamor, since turning into a runty Frost Giant right here seemed like not the greatest of ideas.

Nothing happened.

“That?” the shopkeeper said. She gave it an appraising look. “A thousand units.”

Loki almost choked. Thor had almost no reaction, though of course Loki recognized the flash of shock and horror on his face, because they were brothers and Loki knew him better than anyone. At least, he had. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Thor had had five years to move on without him.

With a shrug, Loki put the Casket of Ancient Winters down. “A thousand units for _that?_ Hilarious. I saw something similar a few streets over, we’ll get you that one instead.”

Mira looked disappointed, but not surprised. A thousand units, after all, was a lot of money. Smart kids, these spacer children, though they grew up fast. Not so fast, normally, as she was going to have to, but even so.

Thor moved to follow Loki out the door. “Wasn’t that one the same as this?”

“No,” Loki replied. “A little different. Nicer. The etching was more detailed. And only eight hundred units. And imagine, I thought _that_ was extortion.”

The shopkeeper held out a hand to halt them. “Wait. I can give it to you for seven hundred.”

The two of them turned around practically in tandem, giving each other doubtful looks. “Yes,” Loki said indulgently. “But I’m sure _there_ I can talk the price down to below five hundred units, so, you see how it is.”

She smiled. “I’ll give it to you for five hundred. Sorry, I can’t go any lower than that. You can see it’s an antique. That’s an ancient Kree design, pre-Imperial. You don’t see craftsmanship like this from that period very often.”

“Fascinating,” Loki said. “I’m no expert, but I’ve done some dabbling in archaeology. There’s a lot of money to be made in forgeries, not that _I_ would know anything about that. The thing is, on pre-Imperial Kree caskets like this, you tend to see the etching on the _outside_ , rather than the way this one is.”

With another smile, this one looking rather more uneasy, the shopkeeper said. “Oh, well, forgeries, I’m sure it’s not…” She looked at the Casket, then said, “I’ll give it to you for four hundred. That’s more than fair, I’ll be losing money on it, actually.”

Thor and Loki looked at each other. Mira watched them, looking hopeful. Obviously, four hundred units was too much money. It was money they didn’t have. One of these days, they were going to get a call from Brunnhilde telling them they were cut off, and they never should have been spending that money in the first place. They’d have to tell her they’d gotten quite the deal on a Jotun relic, when Loki would have paid ten times this amount to get his hands on it. Doubtless she would remain unimpressed and unmoved.

“Ah well,” Loki said, brandishing a thumb to place it on the unit transfer, “there’s no currency like word of mouth, is there?”

With a laugh, the shopkeeper said, “Right. Hey, if you really want to make it up to me, how about a drink later?” She was looking at Loki, but then her eyes shifted to Thor. “Either of you. Or both; there’s plenty of room upstairs.”

“Er, no,” Thor said, then added, “no thank you.” He snatched up the Casket as if he was concerned the four hundred units was going to belatedly become unacceptable. “And also, thank you. For this.”

Loki gave the shopkeeper a sly smile and winked, saying, “Another time, perhaps.”

As they left, Mira made a face. “That was gross.”

“You shouldn’t even have understood what she was suggesting,” Thor informed her.

“Well, I did.” Looking up at them hopefully, she asked, “Can I hold it?” When Thor and Loki exchanged glances, she asked, “Please?”

“I don’t—” Thor began.

But then Loki cut him off, “Yes. You can.” He pulled it from Thor’s grip before his brother could object, ignoring the noise of protest he made. “Just be careful with it.”

She nodded, holding onto it tightly, and Loki met Thor’s gaze. Hopefully his gaze was conveying _we’ll talk later_ because he was attempting _very_ hard to get this across. After a moment, Thor jerked his head once in a nod, so Loki was communicating something, at least.

His eyes fell on the Casket and he tried to force his thoughts not to spiral out of control. Too many questions and no answers. And one thing riding above all of them: he had let go of nearly all the links to his heritage, and now, one of them had fallen in his lap. Was this the Norns’ idea of a joke?

He picked at one of the armor plates on his pants. It wouldn’t surprise him. He was one of their favorite targets, it felt like. Fine. But before he spiraled too hard, he was going to eat something. Giving Thor and Mira a bright liar’s smile, he asked, “Well, what do you think—dinner?”

Mira voiced her support of this idea and Thor told her she could choose where they ate. But he was watching Loki, and Loki knew.

The smile wasn’t fooling his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this fic! The plot thickens... And it's been killing to keep the Black Order stuff mostly to myself for like...over a year now, haha. Kudos are appreciated, and I would love to hear what you think if you feel like leaving me a comment!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	26. Chapter 26

Loki was standing on the bridge, his hands resting on the back of one of the chairs, as he watched Mira study the Casket of Ancient Winters in the galley. Thor was banging around belowdecks, trying to repair their comm system, which was on the fritz again. Thanks, Ithik. It was probably a fried circuit that needed to be rerouted. He was just waiting for the swearing to start before he went down to help.

There was a clang and Thor’s head appeared. “Are you busy?”

“Terribly,” Loki said. “So hopefully you don’t need anything, because I’m afraid my schedule’s just a bit too full.”

Thor’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he held back laughter. “I need you to hold something for me.”

With a snort, Loki said, “Fine. I have to take the Casket away from Mira, though.”

Any good humor on Thor’s face vanished at this. “ _What?_ ” he demanded, his voice loud enough that Mira looked up at them. Loki smiled at her, then glared at Thor. His brother boosted himself up to the deck and muttered, “What are you _thinking,_ letting her play with that?”

Loki crossed his arms over his chest. And to think, on Promachos, Thor had told him he was good with children. “It’s broken,” he said. “I thought you’d figured that out.”

Thor gaped at him. “Figured it _out?_ ” he said. “How in the Nine could I _figure it out?_ ”

“Well, not to point out the obvious, but it isn’t glowing,” Loki replied, pursing his lips. “And perhaps you didn’t notice, brother, but I didn’t turn blue when I touched it.”

This made Thor look sharply at him. “I just thought you were using magic to cover it up.”

“Heaven forbid,” Loki said, his lip twisting. He wasn’t sure if it was just out of habit or if there was actually something dismissive in Thor’s tone. “But no. We’re the proud owners of one broken Frost Giant relic.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest too, leaning back against the bulkhead and looking thoughtful. He glanced at Mira again. “Well,” he finally said, “you can fix it, right?”

Loki laughed, but when Thor stared at him, he furrowed his brow and said, “Oh. You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arching an eyebrow, Loki said in a caustic tone, “Yes, right. Fixing the Casket of Ancient Winters. Let me just get a wrench and open up the top; I’m sure something’s just burnt out. Better yet, maybe the user manual’s inside.”

Rolling his eyes, Thor said, “Alright, ha ha, you’ve made your point. Very funny.”

“It wasn’t much of a point to make.”

Thor stared at him. “Are you done?”

Loki stared back. “I’m sorry, is there more to this conversation?”

Thor was looking at him like _he_ was the idiot. “Can’t you fix it with magic?”

“I—” But Loki stopped, taken aback. He’d had his sarcastic retort all lined up, expecting Thor to say something that could be easily batted aside. It was one of Loki’s very special skills, anticipating what Thor was about to say and cutting him down. But this wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Magic?” Loki repeated.

“Yes,” Thor said, still looking at him like he was being obtuse. “What else would you use to fix a magical relic?”

Drawing in a breath and rolling his eyes, mostly because he needed to think of a response to this surprisingly accurate observation by Thor, Loki said, “Yes, what else, indeed?” The look Thor gave him said it all. The stalling wasn’t fooling him. Loki looked down at his arms folded over his chest, glowering, before he said, “I suppose it’s flattering that you believe I can diagnose the problem and reverse it, but Thor, think about it. I don’t know how it could possibly have survived Ragnarok. Was it damaged by that? Asgard was _vaporized_ but this survived?”

“I don’t know,” Thor said. “It’s magic. You’re the one that understands magic, not me.”

_Nor have you ever made any attempt to_ , Loki was tempted to snap at him. But it was unfair, really. This conversation wouldn’t have happened twenty years ago. Then, Thor had been happy to benefit from the aid Loki’s magic provided, but he had been openly dismissive of it. That, in itself, had been an improvement over centuries past, when he’d been scornful and belittling. Even on Preccat, he hadn’t counted on Loki’s magic to get them out of the situation. But now he assumed Loki could solve a problem with sorcery.

Loki chewed at the inside of his cheek and glanced at Thor, finally saying, “I don’t want to fix it.”

His eyebrows drawing together, Thor asked, “What? Why?”

“Because,” Loki said, which wasn’t an answer. And Thor kept looking at him expectantly. But he wasn’t going to provide more of an answer, because he didn’t want to say it out loud. He didn’t know _how_ to say it out loud. He didn’t know how to explain that it was one thing to accept he was Jotun, one thing to be at peace with the idea of that, when nothing around him or about him actually reminded him of that fact. He’d accepted it fully only when all reminders were gone. Only then had it become safe. With the Casket and the Bifrost both destroyed, there was no way for him to transform into a Frost Giant. He didn’t want to experiment with using his own magic to do so.

Yes, he was Jotun. Yes, he was the son of Laufey, and that made him the rightful heir of Jotunheim. Which was fine. Completely fine. Just tremendous. Another throne he’d never wanted.

The thing was, he wasn’t sure he’d ever totally come to terms with his heritage. He’d thought he had. When he’d ruled Asgard, he’d refused to deal with Jotunheim at all, which hadn’t been an issue, since Jotunheim hadn’t been interested in dealing with Asgard, either. His fault, he supposed. If he could do it all over again, he wouldn’t try to destroy the whole planet. That hadn’t been one of his finer moments.

Still, at least he hadn’t succeeded. It had been a practice run. Because he’d done a wonderful job destroying Asgard. And the way he’d taken out an entire universe had truly been masterful.

_You_ are _a monster._

Being a Frost Giant wasn’t what made him a monster. But learning he was a Frost Giant was the first time he’d _realized_ he was one. And then had come the confirmation: his Fall, all the terrible things that had happened to him, which surely he deserved after what he’d done. The way Thanos had broken him, turned him against his family. The fact that he was responsible for his mother’s death, and his father’s, too. Destroying another universe to fix a selfish mistake that another version of himself had made.

Having the Casket of Ancient Winters dropped in his lap was a gut punch, a shock just like the obedience disc that Thor had slapped on his back on Sakaar. He’d wanted to get his hands on the Casket because he was knew how much damage it could cause. But _he_ didn’t want it. He was glad it was broken. If he was going to use magic to do anything, it would be to destroy it, to finish the job he’d started with Ragnarok.

With a slow exhale, he finally said, “I just don’t want to.”

Thor looked faintly exasperated. “Really? You’re not going to even try to do better than that?”

“No,” Loki said shortly. He went to Mira and asked her to put the Casket aside for a few minutes, and though she eyed him suspiciously, she agreed. He vanished it into his pocket dimension, which made her eyes widen.

“How did you do that?” she asked in an awed voice.

Smiling at her, he replied, “Magic,” then returned to Thor and gestured for him to go back belowdecks. Loki followed him, moving at a crouch over to the comm array.

As he picked up the soldering wand, Thor muttered, “I don’t know why you can’t just tell me the truth.”

Loki picked up the piece that needed to be soldered without being told, holding it in place. “Haven’t you ever just not wanted to tell someone something, brother?”

Giving him a look dark with irritation and old pain,Thor said, “You don’t want to tell me because you still…” But then he stopped, closed his mouth, and turned his attention towards fixing the comm array.

His eyes narrowing, Loki asked, “I still what?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Thor concentrated on what he was doing, which Loki appreciated. That soldering wand was hot, and the first few times they’d had to make repairs, Thor hadn’t been quite so good with it. At least only one of the burns had resulted in a scar.

Forgetting that Thor had said something was unlikely, but he wouldn’t pursue it. Not because he particularly respected the fact that Thor didn’t want him to, but because his brother’s tone made him anxious. The stupid raccoon’s words wouldn’t leave him alone, that Thor had learned to live with him being gone and could do it again. That Thor didn’t need him. He wasn’t the first to say it. Strange had said it to him once, too, though he hadn’t meant it to be cruel. And of course, Thor himself had said it.

Sakaar. That place had been a blessing and a curse. It had brought him and Thor together, but not without pain. And the wound of Thor saying he was content to never see Loki again was as raw as it had been that day. It had only ever healed enough to have the scab ripped back off, which hurt more and more each time.

The two of them worked on the comm array in silence for long enough that Loki hoped they might not have to talk about the Casket any more. But then, Thor asked, “How do you think it got there?” When Loki glanced at him questioningly, Thor added, “The Casket. Promachos. How did it end up _there?_ ”

Loki shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not as though we can ask it.”

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic all the time,” Thor snapped.

Soldering wand and an agitated Thor. Not an ideal combination. Loki let out a slow breath. “I suppose,” he said, not intending to answer Thor’s second, rhetorical question, “that after word got round of what happened to Asgard, there would have been many people hoping to find something of value in the rubble. It was probably scrappers who had no idea what they’d found.”

“Could it have been a ship like Mira’s?”

“I don’t think so,” Loki said. “She said her family were spacers. Spacers and scrappers occupy different niches in the galactic ecosystem.”

Thor grunted. “Makes you wonder what niche _we_ occupy.”

Loki didn’t answer. That was the problem, wasn’t it? They didn’t. They didn’t occupy _any_ niche.

When they were finished repairing the comm array, they climbed back up to the deck. Mira was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at them. “Who are you?” she asked.

With a chuckle, Thor replied, “You know who we are. A couple of homeless Asgardians who eat too much ramen.”

“No,” she said. “Who _are_ you?” She reached up and combed her fingers through her hair, a gesture that Loki could now recognize as a nervous tic. “Loki did magic. You have a giant axe. I don’t think that jewelry box is actually a jewelry box. You keep looking at it like it’s a bomb or something.”

The two of them glanced at each other. Loki’s eyebrow was arched in both question and permission. It didn’t surprise him that she’d finally asked this question. Neither of them had been trying to hide who they really were, and yes, the magic and the axe were a bit of a giveaway that the two of them weren’t your typical Asgardian.

“We…” Thor began, then ran a hand through his hair. “We used to be the Princes of Asgard.”

“Speak for yourself,” Loki said. “I’m still a prince.”

“Loki still thinks there’s a throne to be heir to,” Thor said, waving a hand.

Smirking, Loki said, “On the contrary, I’m well aware there’s no throne to speak of, but I’m not giving up the title.”

Mira’s eyes were wide and her hands had stilled, though they remained buried in her hair. With a sigh, Thor went on, “I was king for awhile. I used to be the God of Thunder, too. That’s why I have the axe. Well, actually I have the axe because our sister destroyed my hammer, Mjølnir—they were both made from the heart of a dying star at the forges of Nidavellir—”

Honestly. Too much information. Loki let Thor ramble on, though. This was the most he’d said regarding the fact that he was no longer the God of Thunder in…ever. Loki wasn’t sure he’d actually heard him say the words ‘I used to be the God of Thunder’ quite so plainly.

“Anyway, it’s not just anyone that can lift Mjølnir, one must be worthy, and I…” Thor drew in a deep breath. “I no longer am.”

Slowly, Mira sat down. “You’re the King of Asgard?” she asked, her voice small. “You’re a god?”

It was obvious to Loki that Thor was struggling to maintain an air of nonchalance. _Come on, brother, it’s alright to stop being the_ hero _once in awhile._ Not that he was one to talk about letting one’s composure drop. It was one of his own defining personality traits. Lies, a silver tongue, and a desperation to maintain his composure.

“We’re both gods,” Thor said, gesturing towards Loki.

Her eyes turning to him, Mira asked, “Are you the God of Magic?”

“Ha, er, no.” Loki have her a sly, crooked smile. “God of Mischief, actually. But I _am_ a sorcerer. Quite a good one, if I might say so.”

“And I’m not the king anymore,” Thor corrected her.

Confusion flickered across her face. “Why not? Who is?”

“A friend of ours,” Thor said. Loki rolled his eyes. “Her name is Brunnhilde. She’s a Valkyrie.”

“What’s a Valkyrie?” Mira asked.

Thor smiled. “They were Asgard’s greatest warriors, and they also ferried the souls of the dead to Valhalla. Brunnhilde is the last of them, though, because—” But Thor stopped when Loki shook his head warningly. The last thing Mira needed to hear about was how the Valkyrior had all been slaughtered. “—because Asgard is, er, gone,” Thor finished instead. The logic of this left something to be desired, but if it worked, it worked.

Mira was combing her fingers through her hair again. “Why would you want to stop being king?”

In Loki’s experience, it mostly hadn’t been much fun. Presumably, it had been worse for Thor. “It’s a lot of responsibility,” Thor said.

“Like being a captain of a ship?” she asked.

“Yes,” Thor said, sounding relieved that she’d supplied this comparison. “Exactly.”

“I want to be a captain of my own crew someday,” she said.

Loki felt a smile twitch at his face at Thor’s helpless look.

“Did you get cursed or something?” Mira asked. “And now you have to go on a quest, and you can’t be king until it’s done? Does it have to do with your hammer? Will you be worthy again once you finish your quest?”

Loki scratched at the tip of his nose to cover the smile on his face.

Looking just _marginally_ overwhelmed by this bombardment of questions, Thor said, “Well, I…we _are_ on a bit of a quest, I suppose, though I don’t think we’re cursed.” As soon as these words left his mouth, a shadow passed over his face. It was obvious what he was thinking. Loki had thought the same thing. Weren’t they? Hadn’t Loki thought exactly that about himself ever since he’d been grabbed by that Frost Giant on Jotunheim and seen his skin turn blue?

“What’s the quest?” Mira asked eagerly.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Loki said, “Has to do with modes of transportation. As quests go, I wouldn’t say it’s particularly scintillating.”

Thor glanced at him, but Loki kept smiling and didn’t react. Why the subterfuge? Well, besides the fact that subterfuge was what he did, just for fun? He wasn’t quite sure, except that he didn’t want to advertise the fact that they were attempting to rebuild the Bifrost. It wasn’t a small thing. Had he been thinking of it as a small thing? He’d been thinking of it, he realized, as something very…mechanical. As literally that—a mode of transportation. A way to get back to the other Realms. But it was far more than that.

“Transportation?” Mira asked. “Like a ship?”

“Yes,” Loki replied.

“Like a bigger ship than this?”

“Correct.”

She looked between them. “I think it would be more exciting if the quest was to become worthy enough to pick up your hammer again.”

Loki looked at Thor, who just nodded. “Yes, that’s probably true,” Thor said, turning away to test their repairs on the comm.

A ridiculous urge to reach out and put his hand on Thor’s shoulder gripped Loki, an urge to say, _Brother, don’t you see, it can be that as_ well; _this isn’t who you’re supposed to be and once you realize that, Mjølnir will return to your hand._

Obviously, he neither reached for his brother nor spoke.

The comm turned on and Thor made a triumphant noise. “I’m getting pretty good at repairing this thing,” he said proudly.

“Perhaps a career opportunity,” Loki said dryly.

Thor smirked at him and fiddled with it. Loki was going to leave him to it, but suddenly, Mira froze, her gaze locked on something out the front viewscreen. Loki turned to follow the direction of her gaze, then asked, “Thor? Are you picking up any distress signals?”

“No, why?” Thor asked, then spun to look out as well.

A speck was growing larger as they approached it, shining with a metallic gleam. It was a ship, floating in space, engines cold, weapons unarmed, and if the fact that Thor was flipping through the channels on the comm was any indication, it wasn’t sending out a signal of any kind.

Loki slid into the pilot’s seat and slowed _The Bifrost_ , swinging her around to come in for a closer look. This was something that, six months ago, Thor would have had to ask him to do, not necessarily because Loki didn’t care (that depended on the day), but simply because stopping to help others had never been the first thing that occurred to him.

“That’s a Vanir ship,” Loki said as they drew close enough to make out details. “What the hel are they doing all the way out here?”

Thor was still flipping through the comm channels without luck. “It could be like that Asgardian ship we came across earlier. The one that didn’t actually have any Asgardians on it?”

“Yes,” Loki murmured. That ship had been disabled as well, but everyone had been left alive on it. “Try to raise them,” he said.

Thor made a noise. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

Next to Loki, Mira seemed nervous. He couldn’t blame her. Ships floating like this out in empty space generally weren’t a good sign. “If you can’t raise them,” Loki said, “should we go over and take a look around?”

Glancing at Mira, then meeting Loki’s eyes, Thor nodded. “I will.”

“We both will,” Loki said meaningfully. The memory of their last excursion to a disabled ship was still fresh in his mind. He didn’t have to dig very far to hit the raw nerve of terror that had been the possibility of losing Thor.

“What about me?” Mira asked, her voice small. There was a fearful expression on her face and it made Loki feel torn. Even if whatever they found was innocuous, the sight of this ship was bound to bringup the trauma she’d so recently experienced. Leaving her alone seemed cruel. But letting Thor go over there by himself was untenable. The third option, he supposed, was that he went by himself.

But when he raised that possibility, Thor said, “No. Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got my magic,” Loki pointed out. “I can hide better than you can, brother.”

And the fact was, he was fairly certain what he was going to find when he went over. Yes, of course, it was possible that their comm was damaged, but…

But disabled ships with damaged comms found a way to communicate with other ships when they encroached on their space. This one was doing no such thing.

Mira was looking increasingly anxious and Loki blew out a huff of air. “I think it’s really for the best if I go by myself,” he said in a low tone. As if Mira wasn’t going to hear him? She wasn’t stupid; she would know this was for her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Thor said. Just as Loki was remembering Thor’s recent brush with death, he was sure that Thor was remembering Loki’s. He had quite a few to choose from, Loki supposed, including one bonafide death.

“Maybe not, but the alternative isn’t exactly marvelous, either,” Loki replied. Flipping a few switches, he fired the aft thrusters to bring them closer to the Vanir ship. “If I’m not back in an hour and you haven’t heard from me, think about perhaps coming to check on me.”

Thor’s jaw was working, but all he said was, “An _hour?_ ”

“Well.” Loki stood up and went to put on an EVA suit. “Maybe half an hour.”

There was a deeply unhappy expression on Thor’s face, but he was looking at Mira and Loki knew that he felt the same guilt about leaving her alone. How could they do that? She’d watched the slaughter of her family and been left by herself. They couldn’t leave her here on _The Bifrost_ while they went to what was, likely, another mass grave.

As he opened the door to the airlock, he tossed the EVA ring once, casually, and shot Thor and Mira a grin. “I’ll be fine,” he said. Putting a hand up and splaying his fingers, he allowed green sparks to dance at his fingertips. “I’m very good at staying out of trouble.”

Thor gave him such an incredulous look that Loki almost laughed. Well, the lie hadn’t been meant for _him_ , it had been meant for Mira, who didn’t know any better. Imagine that, this girl had no idea of his greatest talent. God of Mischief indeed. What if she never knew him as the God of Lies at all? They could conceivably have weeks or months together. Could he keep himself from lying for that long? From the kind of treachery that others saw as so ingrained in his bones that the _real_ twist was when he kept his word?

Er—well, right, he’d just told a lie. Could he keep himself to only _innocuous_ lies for that long?

He keyed the airlock door closed and fit the EVA ring into place over his mouth, activating it. The suit sheathed over his skin and he did the sort of checks that he should have been doing all along on these things. Had he done this prior to retrieving the piece of Yggdrasil, he might not have nearly died. Then again, it was more likely that he would have known about the weakness in the suit and gone out anyway. Loki was very good at looking out for himself, but that didn’t necessarily translate to a strong sense of self-preservation.

The suit was in good condition, though. He readied the boarding lines, clipped himself to them, and then opened the outer airlock door. A blast of atmosphere clouded the vacuum, crystalizing instantly into white vapor before it dissipated. Loki kept one hand gripped around the lines until the pressure equalized, and then he fired them at the Vanir ship. They latched on and he sent a charge down them to disable the airlock on the other ship before he fired the thrusters on his suit, propelling himself along the line until his feet touched down on the deck.

Loki crossed the deck to a panel on the wall, where he hit a button to close the outer airlock door. As it swung shut, he turned around. There was a face at the window of _The Bifrost’s_ outer airlock, which was now closed. He waved and gave a thumbs up, though he was sure Thor couldn’t see the latter. The comm system in the suit hissed in his ear. “ _Well?_ ” Thor’s voice asked.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Loki said, keeping his voice down just in case. “Everything’s fine.”

As he turned back to the panel to open the inner airlock, he lifted a hand to his suit to remove it. Atmosphere had vented from this ship’s airlock when he’d forced it open, which meant the environmental systems were still working. “I’m going to—” he began.

The airlock door opened and his hand froze a millimeter from the touchpoint on the suit that would have retracted it back to the ring over his mouth.

Well. He’d been right about one thing.

Disabled ships found a way to communicate if there was anyone on board left alive to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An attempt at a cliffhanger, haha. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so, so much as always for sticking with this fic. I started writing the sixth fic in this series this week so it's definitely like, hugely gratifying that people are still reading this one. I _love_ hearing from people (even if it's just an emoji!) so comments are always very appreciated, as are kudos. 😊 
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore warning for this chapter.

If they ever came into enough money to make improvements to _The Bifrost_ , the very first thing Loki was going to insist they added were transporters. Not the cheap ones that scattered your atoms to the multiverse one out of every hundred uses, either, but the good ones they used at high traffic space stations like the Lagoon. Everything was so much _easier_ with a transporter. You didn’t have to worry about physically transporting yourself from one ship to another. Specifically for Loki and Thor, you didn’t have to suit up, didn’t have to worry about boarding lines and grappling attachments going bad.

You also could get out of a place in a hurry if you really wanted to.

And right then, Loki _really_ wanted to.

“ _Loki?_ Loki? _Can you hear me? Are you alright? Would you answer me please?_ ” Thor’s voice was a rising wave of concern and Loki realized he’d been ignoring him for a good twenty to thirty seconds. “ _I’m coming over—_ ”

“No,” Loki said, his voice calm, casual, cheerful. “No, you don’t have to do that, Thor.”

“ _Are you sure?_ ” Thor’s voice was tinny. Or maybe that was just his perception. His vision seemed a little tinny suddenly, and that didn’t even make any sense.

Licking his lips, Loki said, “I’m sure.” With a deep breath—but not too deep—he stepped into the ship, over the body that had been slumped against the airlock door, which had fallen face first towards him when he’d opened it.

Gingerly, he knelt next to the woman, reaching for her arm. She was obviously dead. He’d gotten a glimpse of blood before she’d landed face-first on the floor. But checking at least one corpse felt like the right thing to do. As he pushed down her glove to feel for her pulse at her wrist, his eyes caught the tattoo there. A bear’s head, heavily stylized. Vanir.

He stood up, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. These were the first people of the Nine Realms that he’d encountered outside of Asgard’s decimated population. And they were dead.

Loki moved into the ship. The Vanir hadn’t been much of a space-faring people, but with the Bifrost gone, he supposed it had become a necessity for all the worlds on Yggdrasil’s branches. The technology on the ship looked old—probably not as old as the Asgardian ship they’d encountered a few weeks ago, but nothing here looked cutting edge. They would have been easily outgunned by any attacker.

There were bodies everywhere as he walked through the ship, the hiss of the environmental system seeming too loud. He moved from deck to deck, room to room. Nowhere did he find anyone alive. When he arrived at the bridge, he stopped in the doorway, casting his eyes over the room. There were only two corpses, neither laying at the weapons nor the helm, where he would have expected them to be. Softly, loathe to break the tomb-like silence of the ship, Loki crossed the bridge to one of the bodies. He got his hands underneath and shifted the man aside to see what he’d spent his dying moments trying to do something about.

Environmental controls.

Loki furrowed his brow and took in a deep breath of the recycled air in his suit, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t fill his lungs.

He glanced at the man’s face again. It looked the same as all the others had. Angry, pus-filled blisters covered it. Bloody tears streaked down his face from his eyes, which were red with burst blood vessels, and dried blood was crusted where it had run out of both nostrils. Loki didn’t recognize the specific gas, but he recognized a vesicant when he saw one. It might not still be in the air.

But then again, it might be.

“ _What’s going on over there?_ ” Thor asked. He sounded annoyed, but Loki surprised himself by understanding and accepting that he was just worried.

“I’ll explain when I come back,” Loki said calmly. Somewhere Mira couldn’t hear them. He wished they’d bought the music player that Thor had exclaimed over on Promachos. “It’s a Walkman, brother!” The earpads on the headphones had been made of crumbling foam which Thor’s excitement hadn’t done anything for. “I’ve seen these in human movies,” he’d added, as though Loki should have cared. He had seen them too, in some of the movies he and Strange had watched together, though he didn’t tell Thor this. Still, if they’d bought them, they could have stuck them over Mira’s ears and turned the volume up, and Loki could have explained to his brother that there was someone flying around the galaxy who was willing to pump a ship full of deadly gas and kill everyone on board.

And _why?_ Besides the blisters and bloody tears and mucus, there was no sign of damage on any of the bodies. Loki could see no signs of a struggle, no signs that any of the Vanir had put up a fight.

He swallowed, looking at the man at the environmental controls. There was a vague resemblance to Hogun. Perhaps they’d been related. “I’m sorry,” Loki murmured to no one at all, and to the ghosts inhabiting this ship. To the ghosts inhabiting his past. “It was the only way.”

Ragnarok, he meant. Destroying Asgard, destroying the Bifrost, forcing the Vanir and all the otherRealms to travel a dangerous galaxy this way. To come face to face with the horrors traveling that galaxy with them and to not have Asgard’s protection.

Turning away, he made his way back to the airlock, no longer looking at any of the bodies. There was no point. Nothing could be done for them now.

“Thor,” he said into the comm. “I’m coming back.”

There was a long silence. Loki knew Thor was trying to work out how to ask if anyone was coming back with him, when, if the answer was no, it would be a clear indication to Mira that everyone on board was dead. He supposed he could lie and say everyone was fine, he’d just help them make some repairs, and they’d fly off soon. Completely fine, no problem, nothing to see here.

He thought about it. It wasn’t a terrible idea. It wasn’t a great idea either, but he could probably get away with it. But he’d have to stay on this ship longer, twiddling his thumbs, surrounded by death. And he’d have to tell Thor the truth at some point.

Thor wouldn’t be fooled. Loki could make the lie itself convincing, but Thor was already suspicious that something was wrong.

Before he could close the airlock door, he had to drag the body out of the way that had been slumped against it, and was now half inside the airlock and half outside it. He hooked his hands under her arms and pulled.

As he did so, the top layers of her skin sloughed off in a bloody, mucus-y mess. Loki, not easily sickened, dropped her, stumbled back, and felt his gorge rise. He stood there, swallowing, not wanting to vomit in the suit, since he couldn’t take it off.

He approached again and rolled the body out of the way, careful to keep his hands on her well-clothed midsection.

His skin crawling, he closed the inner airlock door. He was about to open the outer one and return to _The Bifrost_ , but he paused, hand raised over the keypad. He chewed at his lip, thinking, before he turned around. Why was he closing this ship back up again? He should vent the whole fucking thing into space.

No. Actually, he had a better idea.

Gritting his teeth, he opened the outer airlock as he fired the thrusters on his suit, so that the initial vent of atmosphere and the force of the thruster fire blew him out of the ship at a gut-churning speed. It was stupid. It was the kind of maneuver that could easily send someone wildly off course, tumbling end over end with no up or down or left or right.

Luckily, Loki was a very good pilot, and that extended to piloting an EVA suit. He fired the thrusters again, bringing himself close enough to the boarding line to grab it. Quickly, he clipped himself to the line, then turned the suit thrusters on full blast until he was back at _The Bifrost_.

The outer airlock door opened for him and he closed it with a fist on the panel, then retracted the boarding lines. He turned the suit off and it disappeared into the mouthpiece. A few droplets of blood and mucus peeled off it and splattered on the floor. He grimaced.

Drawing in a deep breath of clean air, cold from the airlock’s exposure to the vacuum, Loki clenched his fists. Then, he opened the inner airlock door and strode into the ship.

Thor was pacing just inside and Mira was sitting in the galley. He ignored both of them as he went to the bridge and armed the weapons.

“What are you doing?” Thor asked in alarm.

Loki swung the guns around to face the Vanir ship. “Destroying it,” he said, the fierce look on his face a dare for Thor to argue with him.

Thor’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Good.

When the guns reached their full charge, Loki narrowed his eyes and fired them straight at the Vanir ship, a kill shot straight into the most vulnerable part of the hull. It exploded instantly. He was a great pilot, and he had good aim, too.

Then, without speaking, he moved over to the pilot’s chair, flipped the impulse engines on, and got them out of there as fast as he could. He didn’t look back, he didn’t think about what he’d just done, and he certainly didn’t offer any explanation. He wouldn’t get away with that forever—or even much longer—but for the moment, he set his jaw, gripped his fingers around the throttle, and flew.

* * *

Thor waited until Mira went into the bathroom to confront Loki.

“What the hel was all that?” he demanded, his voice low.

Loki hadn’t moved from his seat on the bridge. At this, though, he swiveled to face Thor, eyebrows raised high, and said, “I did the right thing. You would have done the same, brother, if you’d seen what was on that ship.”

Looking torn, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or concerned, Thor said, “What _was_ on that ship? You haven’t said.”

Loki folded his hands in his lap and looked at them. “Nothing.”

“If you’re going to lie to me, at least put some effort into it.” There was a tired look on Thor’s face. It made something in Loki twist hard. Yes, Loki _was_ tiring. But this time he had a good reason.

“I can’t say it in front of Mira,” he said in a quiet voice. “So if you can find some way for us to have a discussion without her overhearing it, I’d be _thrilled_ to tell you.”

This was a lie. Loki wondered if Thor noticed that he’d put more effort into it.

A minute later, the two of them were standing in the airlock, backs to the inner door while they stared out the small window in the outer door. Both of them had their arms crossed over their chests, but Loki was drumming the fingers of one hand on his arm. His voice low and devoid of emotion, he described what he’d seen on the other ship, not omitting any of the gory details. Thor listened, his face impassive.

When Loki stopped, Thor sighed heavily. Putting a hand to the back of his neck, he said, “You’re right. I would have done the same thing.” Loki nodded, a quick jerk of his head. “What do you think was the reason for the attack?”

Loki let a long breath out through his nose. “I have no idea. I suppose I could have looked around more and tried to…I don’t know. Find evidence that something had been taken?”

That, actually, had been stupid. Short-sighted. He’d let sentimentality and squeamishness get in the way of solving a problem.

But Thor patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. Don’t think any more on it, brother. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away from there as quickly as possible.”

“You don’t _blame_ me,” Loki repeated pointedly. But clearly, Thor felt he could have done more.

Thor glanced at him, looking frustrated. “You know that isn’t what I mean. What would you have looked for?”

“I don’t know,” Loki mumbled. “Something.”

A sad expression flitted across Thor’s face. “ _I_ don’t have more than a passing familiarity with Vanir ships. I don’t know where the most secure place on their ships would be. Nor do I know what the Vanir would possess of value.”

“Money,” Loki said shortly. “That’s all it takes, brother. Haven’t you been out here long enough to know that? Didn’t you spend enough time with your _Guardians_ to figure out how all this works? Someone wants something, and they take it from the person that has it. That’s it. The gears that keep all civilization turning.”

Thor looked at him, his brow furrowing. “It isn’t always.”

With a derisive snort, Loki said, “Of course it is. There may be people like _you_ and the _Avengers_ , but you’re a noble drop in a vast sea of avarice and depravity.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long enough to fall annoyingly on his eyebrows, but not long enough to tuck behind his ears. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point. The point is, whoever did _that_ , we want to avoid them.”

“Yes. Clearly.” Thor glanced at Loki, then said, “You don’t think it was the Ravagers who killed Mira’s people?”

“No,” Loki replied shortly. “The Ravagers used blades and poison. This was gas. There was no mistaking it.”

Thor rubbed at his beard. “What if the point was simply to kill them?”

Furrowing his brow, Loki said, “A budding Thanos?”

“I don’t know.” There was a deeply troubled look on Thor’s face. “What if someone was looking for something, and they didn’t have it?” His forehead crinkled and he turned to Loki. “Remember the Asgardian ship with no Asgardians on it?” When Loki nodded, Thor said, “Is it a coincidence that this ship was Vanir?”

“No one was killed on the Asgardian ship,” Loki pointed out.

“I know,” Thor said. He looked at Loki like he was expecting to be called stupid, but Loki remained silent, thinking.

There was no reason to make a connection between the two. On the ship that both they and the Guardians had come across, everyone had been unharmed. They’d simply been lined up, questioned, and then left to go on their way. No gas, no death. It was a far cry from what he’d just seen on the Vanir ship. If the Vanir had been interrogated before being killed, there was no way to know.

“What was the crew of that other ship questioned about?” Loki asked slowly.

Thor was still rubbing his chin. “Where they were from.”

Loki’s eyebrows drew together and he murmured, “And it was an Asgardian ship…”

Glancing at him, Thor said, “Yes. Rocket thought they were looking specifically _for_ Asgardians. Remember? He told us to be careful.”

“I don’t need the rodent’s concern,” Loki sneered, his hackles rising.

“That’s not the point,” Thor said exasperatedly. “The point is, now we’ve found a Vanir ship that was attacked and everyone on board killed. What if it’s the same people, and what if they _are_ looking for Asgardians? They’re willing to kill people.”

Which made them just like a good percentage of sentient life in the galaxy. Being willing to kill people wasn’t a unique trait. Both Loki and Thor were willing to kill people.

“Don’t tell me you want to track them down,” Loki said flatly. “Because we’ve got—as Mira calls it—a quest already.” _His_ quest, which he’d come up with, and which he was still wedded to, not least because it was long and probably impossible, and because it would take Thor a long time to figure out that second part. “Speaking of Mira, if we don’t want to bring her to Nidavellir because of the danger, we certainly don’t want her with us while we’re trying to track down a ship full of murderers.”

“I know,” Thor said. “But if these people are out there, she’s still in danger as long as she’s with us. We need to find out if there’s somewhere we can bring her.”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki said, “Her family were spacers. What if there _isn’t_ somewhere?”

“Then we bring her back to Earth,” Thor said.

Loki gaped. Earth? _Earth?_ Earth was the absolute _last_ place he wanted to return to right now. A planet full of people who despised him, people who couldn’t _wait_ to get rid of him, despite the fact that he’d done several solid favors for the stupid place in the last year. Going back to Earth would mean going to New Asgard, and Thor would probably decide when they got there that he missed it, especially Jane, and that Loki could just finish this whole Bifrost quest on his own.

His fists clenched and he breathed in deeply to argue. The thought of Mira stopped him. If there was nowhere else to bring her, then what choice was there but to send her somewhere that she _would_ be safe? Whatever his misgivings about New Asgard, he knew if Mira were to be left in the care of its citizens, that Brunnhilde, Sif, Jane, and Korg would keep her safe.

He closed his eyes briefly. “Fine.”

Thor looked surprised.

Running his thumbnail across his other fingertips, Loki said, “I’ll talk to her. She’ll lie to me, I think, but, well.” With a slight smile and a shrug, he finished, “I’m rather good at sniffing out a lie.”

Nodding, Thor said, “When do you think is the best time?”

“There isn’t one,” Loki said shortly. “Which is why I’m going to do it now.” Before Thor could say anything else, Loki opened up the inner airlock door. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Thor hadn’t denied wanting to find the people responsible for slaughtering the Vanir crew. 

Mira scrambled back as the door opened. Yes, he’d thought she might be crouched there trying to listen to their conversation. Luckily, the airlock doors were soundproof. That was something she really should have known as a spacer, but then again, you never knew when a ship didn’t have all the modern conveniences. He couldn’t blame her for wondering if this Preccat beater didn’t.

Giving her a knowing smile, Loki asked, “Hear anything?”

“No.” She looked at him.

“Mm.” Loki sat down in the galley and nodded towards the other side of the table. “Can we talk?”

Smart child. She knew something was up and she continued to hover where she was. “About what?”

Loki leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where you’re from.”

Her face closed up. “I’m not _from_ anywhere. I’m a spacer.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know that. But are all your family spacers? Is there someone, somewhere, that you know? Somewhere you can live?”

She looked at her feet, reaching for her hair to comb her fingers through it. “No,” she said. “So I guess I have to stay with you.”

There it was. A clumsy lie, but a lie nonetheless. He watched her without blinking. “So,” he said, “when word gets around about your ship—when scrappers find it and salvage it—when some of that makes its way to Luphom, or Kymellia II, or the Lagoon, there’s no one that will see it and grieve you?”

Her face twitched, but she shook her head. “I don’t have any family,” she said. “Like you and Thor.”

He saw his opening. “But we _do_ have people who would mourn us if they were to learn we were gone,” he said, his tone far gentler than he normally cared to be. “Friends. People who would want us to come stay with them if we had nowhere else to go.”

This was, of course, a lie. Half a lie. Thor had friends; Thor had people that would want him around. Loki had _one_ friend on Earth, and that was Jane Foster. Stephen Strange didn’t count as a friend, and that meant Wong didn’t either. Did they? Oh, who cared. Brunnhilde and he had always been on difficult terms. Sif was still angry at him for banishing her, even though he’d actually done her a favor. If she’d been on Asgard when Hela had returned, she would have been killed right along with the Warriors Three.

Korg, he supposed, was a friend, but that wasn’t saying anything, because Korg liked everyone. Korg’s best friend, after all, was an insect.

Mira was still staring at her feet and Loki waited a minute for dramatic effect. “If something were to happen,” he said, “I would want them to know I was alright. I wouldn’t want them to worry or be sad for me.”

It was difficult to imagine any of the people he’d just listed worrying about him, even Jane. Intellectually, he knew it wasn’t true, but the feeling in his gut and his heart won out every time—when Loki disappeared, he was out of sight, out of mind. The idea of Jane worrying about him was something he could possibly, almost, _nearly_ wrap his head around. The idea of Strange worrying about him? Laughable. Strange, no doubt, had put Loki out of his mind the minute he’d returned to the Sanctum after the Battle of New Asgard. Loki had been a curiosity to him, an amusing house guest, a loose cannon. Something wild that Strange had tried and failed to control. Strange seemed like he had once been the type to get bent out of shape about this kind of failure. But Loki’s refusal to be controlled had seemed to entertain Strange. Or perhaps _interest_ was the better word. Strange had seemed very _interested_ in Loki.

Hmph. A curiosity. Nothing more.

Mira’s fingers were still running through her hair. “If there _was_ somebody,” she said in a small voice, “and I maybe could tell you where they are, can you make me a promise?”

“Of course,” Loki said without hesitating.

She met his eyes. “I want to go to the sea. What you told me about. Like where you’re from. You could bring me there.”

“Earth is too far,” he said. “But there are many planets that have oceans. We’ll find one, and yes, we’ll bring you there.”

She stared at him, searching for the lie in his face. Not, he didn’t think, because she inherently knew him to be a liar, but because she was old enough to understand that adults lied to children.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t old enough to understand that when adults lied to other adults, they needed to be good at it. And she mostly certainly didn’t understand that she was on a ship with one of the galaxy’s most practiced liars.

Finally, very quietly, she said, “The Lagoon. My aunt and uncle live there.”

Loki sat back, holding his breath so he didn’t let it all out in a relieved whoosh. He made eye contact with Thor, who nodded and went straight to the nav system. As his brother set their new course, Loki said, “Your aunt and uncle will be very happy to know you’re alive.”

Mira nodded, but she looked miserable. And Loki had to try very hard to ignore the fact that he didn’t feel good about this at all. Luckily, he was one of the galaxy’s most practiced liars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah everything is going _great_ , clearly. Everything's fine!
> 
> Thank you so much as always for sticking with this fic. I appreciate everyone who's still reading! I love hearing from you, too (I literally will save comments and read them as a reward for finishing tasks, haha—each AO3 comment email is a highlight of my day).
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up to everyone that I've decided to change from "No Archive Warnings Apply" to "Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings." I've struggled with what to warn for and how much I'm spoiling, and I think at this point, since we're getting to the shit-hitting-the-fan point, it's probably for the best that I go with the There Be Dragons catch-all. I'll still try to warn for triggery stuff that isn't like, super spoilery, but if it's a plot point that I want to be a surprise, there's not going to be a warning for it.
> 
> This is probably annoying and I'm sorry that I didn't do it earlier! If you feel you can't read anymore, I understand and thank you for reading up until this point 😊

Mira glared at them furiously as the Lagoon loomed in the viewscreen.

“We’ll come see you before we go,” Thor assured her.

“You _lied_ to me. You _tricked_ me.”

“We didn’t—look, Mira, your aunt and uncle will look after you, they’re your family, the Lagoon is safe, and it’s not safe with us—”

She clenched her fists. “I don’t _care_ about being safe! I hate it here! It’s boring and _stat_ and I want to stay with _you_.”

Thor looked at Loki for help, which was very unfair, as far as Loki concerned. _Oh no, brother, you’re doing great, honestly. Keep it up. Leave me out of it._

Once Mira had admitted where they could find her family, it hadn’t taken much more effort to get the names of her aunt and uncle. Jam sticks had been involved as a bribe—jam sticks and several more lies—but in the end, she’d told Loki.

Thor had made the call. “You’re more of a people person,” Loki had said, and Thor had shrugged, not disputing this. But Loki had hovered in the background of the screen, and when the two of them (Zala and Bel) had asked to see Mira, he’d been the one to cajole her to come talk to them. She’d seemed happy to see them. They were certainly happy to see her. By the end of the conversation, they were both crying.

After assuring them they’d come straight to the Lagoon, Thor had cut the connection and found Mira glaring at him. “We’re going to the sea first,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.

“Yes, of course,” Thor said. The ease with which he told this lie made Loki proud.

She’d figured it out when they’d emerged from the jump point and the Lagoon had come into view. That was when the shouting had started.

Mira’s eyes followed Thor’s, landing on Loki, and her eyes got brighter with anger and unshed tears. “You can’t just _leave_ me! You _can’t!_ ”

“Mira—” Loki said, trying his most charming smile on her.

“ _Don’t_ tell me that this is better for me!” she shouted.

Loki closed his mouth, as this was exactly what he’d been about to say. The thing was, it wasn’t a lie. She _was_ better off at the Lagoon and everyone could see that. Even she would be able to see it, eventually. But there was still guilt cork-screwing into Loki’s chest, because this couldn’t help but bring his own fear of abandonment to the surface, scrabbling at him with those claws that he couldn’t unhook from his soul.

Clasping his hands behind his back so he could allow his fingers to fidget without her seeing, he said, “Mira. I’m sorry, but you can’t come with us. The things we do are dangerous, and we simply can’t put you in danger.”

Her glare got fiercer. “I’m not afraid! And I can learn to fight!”

“We know that,” Thor said. “But how do you think we would feel if despite that, something happened to you?”

She looked at the deck, angry tears still in her eyes. “It _wouldn’t_ ,” she said, though she clearly knew this wasn’t something that could be controlled.

The comm buzzed and Loki whirled to deal with it, leaving Thor to keep talking to Mira. “Yes—Lagoon Control?” he said. “This is _The Bifrost_ requesting permission to dock.”

“ _Copy that, Bifrost. Stay in Hold Pattern F please, we’re sending you that route—ah, never mind, a spot just opened up. We’re going to put you in Docking Bay Z6, that’s in the Inner Ring. Once you get within seven hundred meters, tractor assistance will kick in._ ”

“Thank you,” Loki said. He didn’t need the tractor beam to land, but it was standard procedure.

“ _No problem, Bifrost. You have clearance to dock. Crew will be on hand to guide you into your docking berth._ ”

The comm went off and Loki switched to the pilot’s seat, trying not to listen to Thor and Mira arguing. He heard, “It’s okay for _you_ to fly around space by yourself, and you’re not even spacers! I’ve been doing this my whole life!”

“Look,” Thor said, clearly in a desperate bid. “In a few years you’ll be grown up, it’s really not that long, and then you can fly around space again—”

“That’s _forever_ if you’re not Asgardian!” she retorted.

Yes, it was probably better if he didn’t get any more involved in this than he already had been.

“Loki said we would go to the sea!” she yelled.

There was a meaningful pause, and then Thor said, “Yes, I know he did. And—”

Swiveling in the seat, Loki said, “And we wanted to, Mira. You must understand that it isn’t that we don’t _want_ you here.”

“You don’t,” she said, her fists still clenched and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “You wouldn’t make up stupid excuses to get rid of me if you really liked me.”

Hel. This could easily have been something that Loki had yelled at Thor when they’d been children. Gritting his teeth and breathing out through his nose, Loki said, “Mira.” But then he stopped. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her or bring up bad memories.

He sighed. He didn’t _want_ to frighten her. But that might be the only way to make her listen. Tough love, he supposed. _Oh, right, just like your father, and look how well_ that _turned out for you._

“I know you understand that the galaxy is a dangerous place,” Loki said, ignoring the voice in his head. “Do you understand that we’ve seen terrible things? Terrible things that _could_ have happened to us. A terrible thing that _did_ happen to you.” There was something in the hardness of his tone, the way he was so utterly convinced of the truth of his words, the _rightness_ of them, that reminded him of his father. Her face closed up, and he knew he should stop. He didn’t. “Your family being killed in front of you? It’s the sort of thing that happens all the time, Mira. We do our best to stop it, but sometimes we don’t get there in time. Sometimes everyone dies. And one of these times, it’s just as likely to be the two of _us_.” He kept his gaze steady, though inside, he was sneering at himself for this tactic.

Her face stiff and unhappy, Mira said, “You’re gods, though.”

With a bark of hard laughter, Loki said, “Gods die too. Don’t you remember how we met?”

She glanced at Thor, who looked troubled, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead, she turned her back and stalked over to the galley, where she sat with her back to them.

Turning to the controls, Loki piloted the ship into the Lagoon’s airspace, flying through the rings until he arrived at the docking bay that had been assigned to them. Once he’d set the ship down, Thor grabbed his pack. They’d decided, via quick, murmured conversation, that they’d spend one night on the station. It would be a nice thing to do for Mira. And it would also be a nice thing for them. Loki wanted to take a decent shower. He hadn’t had one since Preccat, and quite honestly, he didn’t really like admitting that the barracks showers had been decent.

The two of them waited for Mira to get up. When she finally did, she said, “Can I have the box from Promachos? You bought it for me.”

“No,” Loki said shortly.

This didn’t seem to surprise her, but she glared at him anyway.

Mira’s aunt and uncle had given Thor their address on the station, so once they’d settled up with the docking bay crew, they went straight there, not detouring for anything. Not that the temptation was really there. Mira had shut down again, as silent as the days following her rescue. During the entirety of the trip to her aunt and uncle’s quarters, she glared at the deck silently. A few times, Thor tried to cajole her into speaking, but it didn’t work. Loki didn’t even bother. She was angry at both of them, but he was the one that had lied to her in the first place. And he was the one that had been cruel, because he didn’t know how to be any other way.

His father would be proud.

Actually, he didn’t think that was true. He didn’t think Odin had ever _meant_ to be cruel—not in a sustained way. His cruelness had been incidental, situational, borne from anger or disappointment or even heartbreak. Did that make what Loki was doing now worse?

No. Of course not. She wasn’t his child. She wasn’t even family. She was a girl they’d rescued. No more, no less.

They arrived at the address they’d been given. Thor put a hand to the door chime on the panel next to the door. There was a silence and then the door slid open to reveal a Luphomoid couple. They looked middle-aged. Loki wondered if the man or woman was Mira’s blood relative.

“Oh my god,” the woman said, her hands over her mouth. “Oh god—Mira—” Her face dissolved in tears and she flung her arms around Mira, her hands tangling in her long necklace in her frantic move to hug her niece. The man was crying too and he didn’t bother to wait for the woman to release Mira, instead just wrapping his arms around both of them.

Loki and Thor hung back awkwardly. “Should we just…go?” Loki murmured.

Thor looked at him like he was insane. There was that question answered, then.

It took a few moments, but eventually, Mira hugged her aunt and uncle back. And finally, when they let go of her, the man and woman straightened up, tears streaking both of their faces. There was something of Mira’s eyes in the man’s face, if Loki wasn’t mistaken. “We can’t thank you enough,” the man said. “Please, come in.”

“Oh, no,” Thor said, sounding alarmed. “No, it’s fine, we really don’t—we don’t want to trouble you.”

The woman grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. “Trouble? You brought Mira back to us. It’s no trouble. We can never repay you.”

Thor shot a helpless look at Loki and allowed himself to be drawn inside. Loki followed. They found themselves in a nicely appointed room. It was a decent size for a space station apartment, with low furniture made of some kind of black wood. A few decorative lanterns were hanging from the ceiling and the walls were covered in art. The apartment had windows that faced out into space, which wasn’t a given on a station. Mira’s aunt and uncle appeared to have some money. That would be good for her.

“I’m glad to officially meet you,” the man said, bowing slightly. Bel, Loki remembered. And the woman was Zala. Bel had to pause to gather himself as he looked at Mira, whom Zala was shepherding over to the low sofa. Taking a deep breath to try to get his tears under control, he said, “Atla—Mira’s mother—was my sister. When we heard about the ship…” His voice cracked and he couldn’t go on.

Zala came over, putting a hand to his shoulder, and said, “Go sit with Mira.” When he nodded, she kissed his cheek and gave him a little push towards the sofa. Her eyes followed him until he sat down, bowing his head to speak with Mira, and then she turned back to Loki and Thor. Her hair was more purple than Mira’s or her husband’s. “We assumed the worst, obviously,” Zala said. “When we heard what had happened to _The Lyrae_.”

_The Lyrae_. Loki hadn’t known the name of the ship Mira had come from—had, in fact, never thought of asking.

“Atla and Yant have been spacers as long as I’ve known Bel,” she said. “It was all the kids ever knew, so we knew they had to have been on the ship too. Cass—she was the oldest—hadn’t decided what she wanted to do yet, university or stay on the ship, or maybe find her own crew, and…well, never mind, sorry, that’s not the point…what was I saying?” She put a hand to her head. Loki wanted to sink through the deck. This was agonizing. Excruciating. He didn’t want to be privy to these people’s grief or their joy or the flustered mess of emotions in between those two things.

“Oh,” she continued, “right…the reports said all the escape pods were still on the ship, and that most of the manifest was accounted for. They couldn’t find Mira, but we just thought…well, we didn’t want to think too hard about what might have happened to her, if they took her—”

Loki cleared his throat. “They were Ravagers,” he said. “So they probably wouldn’t have.” When Thor looked at him in a way that suggested nothing so much as _you’re making this exponentially worse_ , he added, “They have a, er, a code.”

A code which didn’t include not killing children, clearly. Loki didn’t know the ins and outs of it, he just knew the Ravagers didn’t _trade_ in children. Of course, he didn’t know that those Ravagers hadn’t gone rogue. The urge to explain this rose in him, but he forced it down. He shouldn’t have said anything at all.

But Zala either had the good graces not to react to him—or she didn’t notice his awkwardness. “Please, stay for supper. Do you have a place to stay? We have an extra room if you don’t. It’s not much, and there’s only one bed but I’m sure we can find something else, or one of you can sleep on the sofa here—”

Thor put his hands up. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “But you owe us nothing. We’re just happy to bring Mira back to her people.”

Tears brightened Zala’s eyes again. “We can truly never thank you enough,” she said. “Never. We thought they were all gone. We thought even if Mira was still alive, we’d never see her again.”

Then, taking him completely off-guard, Zala threw her arms around Loki, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for saving her,” she said, before letting go of him and hugging Thor too. She wiped at her eyes and gave a watery laugh. “I don’t even know your names. We never asked.”

“Thor.” He put a hand on Loki’s shoulder and added, “And my brother, Loki.”

“Thor and Loki, you have our eternal thanks,” she said feelingly, then repeated, “Stay for supper. It’s the very least we can do.”

Suddenly, from the sofa came Mira’s voice. “They eat horribly, Aunt Zala. You have to make them stay for dinner or they’ll just go buy those greasy fried noodles.”

Loki snorted and looked at Thor, who looked like he was trying not to smile. “We didn’t actually have any plans for dinner,” Loki admitted, glancing over at Mira. There was still an unhappy expression on her face, but her glare was a little less fierce as she looked at him. Awkward or not, it wouldn’t kill them to spend an hour or two here. They probably owed her that much, considering they’d lied to her about the sea. “Perhaps we could stay.”

After a second, Thor nodded his agreement. Zala, with relief on her face, said, “Perfect. Thank you. Thank you. We’ll make something traditional—have you ever had Luphomoid cuisine? No? That doesn’t surprise me, you can’t get decent Luphomoid food off Luphom; Mira, I bet you haven’t had a decent squash curry since the last time you were here. Bel makes the most delicious curry, you’ll be hooked, you’ll see. And you’ll have to see us anytime you pass through the Lagoon; we’ll make sure you’re eating properly.”

Shooting a wry smile at Thor, Loki acquiesced to this onslaught of gratitude, even though he felt that they didn’t really deserve the fuss. Thor had done what he always did, which was the right thing, and Loki had as well, even if it was something that he was out of practice with.

He had to be honest, though, seeing the happiness in the room, seeing this family reunion, this wellspring of hope where before there’d been none, made him realize why Thor, and all his hero friends, were so addicted to do-gooding. His heart swelled and he tried not to smile like an idiot. Anyway, he didn’t need to. Thor had that covered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a slightly nicer chapter after the gore of 27, haha. Thank you as always for reading along and following the boys' adventures! I appreciate every single kudos and comment I get so so much, so if you feel inclined to let me know what you think, I would be thrilled!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


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